“I almost felt that you loved me—I did not really guess it—but I felt, though it seemed so strange,” she said. She drew away from him a little—her hands folded on his breast—so that she might look at him.
“From the first moment I saw you; from the moment you came round that turning in the lane. You can’t claim any such pedigree of feeling!” He put his hands over hers. Their looks were deep, under the light smiles and the lightness of their words.
“I can see no other beginning—unless just now is one.”
“You did not know—not one bit—until just now.”
“Can one fall in love so suddenly?” she wondered.
“Yes, if one has been feeling love near one for so long.”
“And you really—really knew?”
“From the meeting in the lane. Something inside me said: Here—here at last she is. There was a bird singing near us—do you remember, darling? The bird seemed to say it, too. I was like an awakened Siegfried.”
“Oh—dear Maurice, it is too beautiful,” said Felicia, almost sighing. “Is this my empty life suddenly brimming over?”
She rose, leaving her hand in his, and they walked up and down the long room.