“Oh, monsieur,” she said, with a tone of deep appeal, “believe me, I have never done so cruel a thing as that in all my life!”
“Are you to all men as to me?”
“I hope so.”
“That American in Zurich! when you met him again was it as to meet me again?”
“But he is no especial friend of mine.”
“And am I especial?—Am I?—Yes?”
“Yes,” she said slowly, “I feel as if I had known you all my life.”
“Yes,” he answered quickly, “just so I feel also.”
He put up his hand and again brushed the loose lock of his wavy hair back from his forehead.
“Vraiment,” he exclaimed, “I begin to feel that it is impossible that I go to-morrow.”