“Let us rest here in the shade,” she said, settling herself comfortably under a silver birch. “Roy and Swanhild walk at such a pace that I think we will let them have the first view of the Mongefos.”
He threw himself down on the grass beside her, and for a time there was silence.
“You did not sleep last night,” she said presently.
“How do you know that?” he said, his color rising a little.
“Oh, I know it by your forehead. You were worrying over something. Come, confess.”
He sat up and began to speak abruptly.
“I want to ask you a question,” he said, looking up the valley beyond her and avoiding her eyes. “Do you think a man has any business to offer to a woman a love which is not his first passion?”
“At one time I thought not,” said Sigrid. “But as I grew older and understood things more it seemed to me different. I think there would be few marriages in the world if we made a rule of that sort. And a woman who really loved would lose sight of all selfishness and littleness and jealousy just because of the strength of her love.”
He turned and looked straight into her eyes.
“And if I were to tell Cecil that I loved her, do you think she would at any rate listen to me?”