"I don't know that I should go so far as to say that," I replied, wondering why my heart was not aching harder.
"Perhaps, then, you've never been in love?" she suggested.
"Oh, haven't I? I've been in nothing else lately—except hot water."
"You do say such odd things. But I bless you, if I can't understand you. You've made me so happy."
"You didn't tell me you were in love with Robert."
"Of course not—then. It would have been too bold, even to tell myself, when—he was engaged to some one else. But pity's akin to love, isn't it? And there was no harm in pitying him because he was bound to a—a creature, who could never deserve his love."
"Even if he hadn't given it to you."
"That was fate, wasn't it? But if it hadn't been for my clever brother, we could never have belonged to each other."
"Some men are born brothers, some achieve brotherhood, others have it thrust upon them," I muttered. "You and he had better take advantage of the lull to be married," I said aloud.
"The lull?"