He held her gaze.
"Be serious," he said.
"I can't, I like you so!"
"Only till I ask you this. You said once you had always been in love with love."
"Always. Ought I to be ashamed of it? I am not. I am proud. To find the half of you that you have been lonesome for, and then be faithful to it,—oh, beautiful!"
"Are you in love with love, or are you in love with me?"
"With you, dear Osmond." The clear eyes answered him in a joyous confidence.
"I must have taken hold of your imagination."
"Yes! You make me see visions and dream dreams. Hear how fast I talk to you! The words can't tumble out quick enough, there are so many more pushing them."
"No, I mean I have taken hold of your imagination because I am so queer."