"I love you," he repeated, reassured.
"But you have said openly here, in this house, that we are engaged—that I had your ring."
For a breath he hesitated. Then: "Let it stand," he pleaded, and bent toward her. "You are like me, you are sick of it all. The world has bruised us both—has tried to make outcasts of us both—has blackened us falsely.
"Let us go away together—to Yukon, to Ceylon, to where you will. Let us build for ourselves a free life—a new, clean life, out in those free, new clean surroundings."
He was actually surprised at his own eloquence and at how in earnest he felt; and how chivalrous. But he was still more surprised at how keen he was to prove to Rosamond that he had spoken truthfully.
"But I'm disfigured," said Nina behind her white windings. "Horridly disfigured."
"It will not matter," he declared.
"And I am old. I count for ten years beyond you."
"That is our own affair—our very own affair." He felt the hand within his quiver lightly and hope rose.
"I really am very fond of you," she whispered.