She seated herself, but not before glancing about the room, either expectantly or fearfully. As I poured out her tea I repeated what I had said already on the subject of the money. She wasn't listening, however. When she made replies they were not to the point. All the while she sipped her tea and nibbled her cake her eyes had the shifting alertness of a watchful little bird's.
"Oh, but what does it all matter when it's a question of love?" she said, somewhat at a venture. "Love is the only thing, don't you think? It must make its opportunities as it can."
"You mean that love can be—unscrupulous?"
"Oh, I shouldn't use that word."
"It isn't the word I'm thinking of. It's the act."
"Love is like war, isn't it? All's fair!"
"But is it?"
Her eyes rested on mine, not boldly, but with a certain daring.
"Why—yes."
"You believe that?"