"Jenny, precious one, are you nearly crying now?" he whispered.
"No, of course not."
Yet when he kissed her eyelids they were wet.
"Shall I pin the brooch now?"
She nodded.
"Jenny, you don't know how I hate myself for being unkind to you. I hate myself. I shall fret about this all night."
"Not still a miserable old thing?" she asked, fingering the smooth face of the opal that had caused such a waste of emotion.
"Happy now. So happy." He sighed on her breast.
"So am I."
"You're more to me every moment."