"Do you think that I love any one as I love you?"
"You cannot love me at all,—unless that wicked, wretched creature is a liar."
"Have I ever lied to you? You will believe me?"
"I do not know."
"I love no one in the world but you."
Even that almost sufficed for her. She already longed to have her arms round his neck and to tell him that it was all forgiven;—that he at least was forgiven. During the whole morning she had been thinking of the angry words she would say to him, and of the still more angry words which she would speak of that wicked, wicked viper. The former were already forgotten; but she was not as yet inclined to refrain as to Mrs. Houghton. "Oh, George, how could you bear such a woman as that;—that you should let her write to you in such language? Have you been to her?"
"What, to-day?"
"Yes, to-day."
"Certainly not. I have just come from my brother."
"You will never go into the house again! You will promise that!"