“Yes.” She would not give him the pleasure of a fight.
“Quite?”
“Quite.”
Unprepared for this acquiescence, he was disconcerted. She smiled as, without looking at him, she became aware that he was ill at ease. For the last time, perhaps, he was suppliant now. Soon no mysteries would divide him from her. Soon——
But she liked him for being afraid, for his embarrassment, his momentary helplessness.
“You old fool, Nick!”
“For doubting? Then—Margaret, I’m ghastly afraid of frightening you. But I do love you. I do love you, Margaret. You’re different from me—on a different plane—that’s what makes it difficult. But I love you, body and soul. Margaret——”
“And soul!”
The implication stung. “You mean——”