“O Hilda—I have only told you the truth, that is my crime.”
“You told me because of what I said? You love me because of what I said?”
“Good God! I have been madly in love with you for months!”
“For months?” she repeated dully.
“For years, perhaps, who knows!”
“I did not know that I—that you—“
“You knew nothing, my poor angel.”
He enfolded her again. Her look seemed to stumble and grope for an entreaty; her very powerlessness in the grasp of her realized love enchanted him.
“How base! how base!” she moaned.
“Am I a cruel brute? Ah! Hilda, you love me, and I cannot help myself.”