"I don't know that one could call it that," she said, quietly.
He drew a quick inward breath, clinching his teeth, but keeping his fixed smile.
"But you don't know that one couldn't."
"I can't define what I felt at all."
"It was just enough," he pursued, in his bantering tone, "to keep you—looking for him back—as you told me—that day."
She lifted her eyes in a swift glance of reproach.
"It was that—then."
"But it's more—now. Isn't it?"
She met him squarely.
"I don't think you've any right to ask."