“Yes.”
“Then—yes.”
Martini turned away and went on pacing up and down. Presently he stopped again.
“I want to ask you another question. If you don't choose to answer it, you needn't, of course; but if you do answer, then answer honestly. Are you in love with her?”
The Gadfly deliberately knocked the ash from his cigar and went on smoking in silence.
“That means—that you don't choose to answer?”
“No; only that I think I have a right to know why you ask me that.”
“Why? Good God, man, can't you see why?”
“Ah!” He laid down his cigar and looked steadily at Martini. “Yes,” he said at last, slowly and softly. “I am in love with her. But you needn't think I am going to make love to her, or worry about it. I am only going to——”
His voice died away in a strange, faint whisper. Martini came a step nearer.