"Of course," she said, smiling lazily.
"It is good of you to let me come like this." How she hated his humility, but—"I like you to," she murmured, automatically kind.
"How lovely you look! Lovelier than ever before—as lovely as ever before." And then, "I love you."
"Do you think so?" She seemed amused and sceptical.
"Do you doubt it?" He clutched her wrist.
"Not if you put it like that."
"You are laughing at me," he recognised sadly.
"Forgive me." She put her hand on his, lightly, caressingly, her voice gentle and tender.
"But you do know it, don't you?" He was very insistent.
("Does he think that I am blind and deaf and that no one has ever loved me before?" she wondered irritably.)