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I looked at her hungeringly until her cheeks grew red and her eyelids
fluttered. I had a wild impulse to throw my arms around her, and kiss
her as I had never kissed her before and bid her forget all that I had
said that day. Her faltering eyes told me that they read my longing. I
was about to yield when the little devil of a pain inside made itself
sharply felt and my madness went from me. I fetched a thing half-way
between a sigh and a groan, and dropped her hands.
"Need I answer your question?" I asked.
She turned her head aside and whispered "No."
Presently she said, "I am glad I came back from Sicily. I shouldn't have
liked you to write this to me. I shouldn't have understood."
"Do you now?"
"I think so." She looked at me frankly. "Until just now I was never
quite certain whether you really cared for me."
"I never cared for you so much as I do now, when I have to lose you."
"And you must lose me?"
"A man in my condition would be a scoundrel if he married a woman."
"Then it is very, very serious--your illness?"
"Yes," said I, "very serious.


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