Evan turned in his chair and felt for his glasses, which were absent.
“Miss Lee,” he said, in his most pedagogical voice, “may I have your attention briefly?”
Carmel faced him with some trepidation.
“Last night,” he said, “moved by an excitement to which I fancied myself immune, certain words were surprised from me.”
“I don’t remember,” Carmel said, weakly.
“Pardon me,” he said, “you do remember. Your manner toward me assures me of your complete recollection.”
“Indeed!”
“However, in order to avoid misapprehensions I shall refresh your memory. My words, and I remember them exactly, were as follows: ‘I believe I’ve fallen in love with you.’”
“Oh, that,” said Carmel, as if the matter were of no moment.
“That.... Exactly. Er—your physical peril aroused in me an excitement and apprehension most distasteful to me. I have been puzzled for some time with respect to yourself and the strange effect your presence has upon me. The matter became clear last night. I said I believed I was in love with you. That was inaccurate. I knew I was in love with you.”