"And this is true," she said.
"It is."
"And I never thought it would be. I was afraid Miriam was loving you."
"But," he said, still swinging, "I was never in any danger of loving Miriam."
She shook her head. "I couldn't have let her be unhappy."
"And me?"
She gave him an illuminating smile. "You're just myself. It doesn't matter if one hurts oneself."
"Ah!" He bent her fingers and straightened them. "How small they are. I could break them—funny things. So you'd marry me to Miriam if she wanted me. That isn't altogether satisfactory, my dear. To be you—that's perfect, but treat me more kindly than you treat yourself."
"Just the same—it must be. Swing my hand again. I like it." She went on in a low voice. "All the time, I've been thinking she would come between."
"She can't now."