He did not answer for a moment or two, because he wanted her to hold his hand a little while longer, so much time was to come when she would never hold it.
"Whenever I dip my hand in cold water," he said at last, "I shall think of you. Why did you say that about the demons of the night?"
She dropped his hand in comprehension.
"You're disgusted with me," he murmured. "I'm not surprised."
"No, no, you mustn't think of me like that. I'm still a very human Esther, so human that the Reverend Mother has made me wait an extra year to be professed. But, Mark dear, can't you understand, you who know what I endured in this place, that I am sometimes tempted by memories of him, that I sometimes sin by regrets for giving him up, my dead lover so near to me in this place. My dead love," she sighed to herself, "to whose memory in my pride of piety I thought I should be utterly indifferent."
A spasm of jealousy had shaken Mark while Esther was speaking, but by the time she had finished he had fought it down.
"I think I must have loved you all this time," he told her.
"Mark dear, I'm ten years older than you. I'm going to be a nun for what of my life remains. And I can never love anybody else. Don't make this visit of mine a misery to me. I've had to conquer so much and I need your prayers."
"I wish you needed my kisses."
"Mark!"