—a new mood seizes on him. They have "one thing to guard against." They must not make much of one another; there must be no more parade of love than there was yesterday; for then it would seem as if he supposed she needed proofs that he loves her—
". . . yes, still love you, love you,
In spite of Luca and what's come to him."
That would be a sure sign that Luca's "white sneering old reproachful face" was ever in their thoughts. Yes; they must even quarrel at times, as if they
". . . still could lose each other, were not tied
By this . . ."
but on her responding cry of "Love!" he shudders back again: Is he so surely for ever hers?
She, in her stubborn patience, answers by a reminiscence of their early days of love—
". . . That May morning we two stole
Under the green ascent of sycamores"
—and, thinking to reason with him, asks if, that morning, they had
". . . come upon a thing like that,
Suddenly—"