“And fidèle?”
“You know,” she answered. “There would be no thought only jus’ for you....”
“But America is strange. It would not be Paris. You might be unhappy there.”
“That ees ver’ silly.... Where you are I shall always be happy.”
He leaped to his feet and paced up and down the room, then stopped suddenly before her. “What shall I do?... What shall I do?” he said, hoarsely.
“I cannot say. I do not know.”
“You know I love you.”
“I believe.”
“I can’t decide. I can’t tell what to do.... I don’t know what I can do, what will be possible.”
She made no answer.