"I—I am rather busy this morning—only it didn't seem exactly courteous to say so."
"Please don't be insincere—ever—with me, even in things that don't matter at all."
Jean rose. "Well then—I won't. Will you please—go?"
But Jean was too near. He could feel her in his arms as he had felt her every night, alone in the mountains.
"You're so hard—so terribly un-needing—and I need you so."
Jean's hands gripped the desk-edge, but she still managed to keep the smile in her eyes. She could hear Minnie typing in the next room and out in the hall the elevator clanked. It had been so still in the studio the night Herrick asked her to marry him. And the night that she and Gregory had stood silent, the air had been touched with frost and the stars had been so bright. It was hot now and the glaring August sun beat in under the awnings. The city roared away to vast distances, and even the small spot where she stood was filled with little clickings and bangings.
"Don't look like that, please. Forgive me. I won't offend again."
The words drew Jean back to the moment.
"Don't you mean—that you love me? That—you want—to marry me?"
"Mean it! Of course I mean it. More than I ever meant anything in all my life. Jean! Do you? Do you care too?"