March 27.
We had dinner at Rector’s at four o’clock today. Robert told me that he loved me. I was dumbfounded and must have shown it plainly. I asked him if he was in the habit of making love to young women. His lips quivered and he said, “I don’t blame you for being offended, but I swear to you that this is the first time I ever told a woman I loved her when I had not the right to do so. I am sorry, so sorry, I have told you, for I might have gone on suffering alone, and you would have never been the wiser, while now I have made you unhappy, too. Can you forgive me?”
He leaned over toward me and looked into my eyes so eagerly for an affirmative answer that—well, how could I refuse forgiveness, and then, you know, my work must be considered.