"Well?" he questioned.
"Don't hold me at arms' length!" she pleaded gently. "It makes things so difficult."
"What is it you want to know?" he asked without relaxing.
She stood silent for a few seconds as if summoning all her courage. Then at length, her voice very low, she spoke.
"When you said that you wanted me for your wife, did you mean that you—loved me?"
He made an abrupt movement, and his fingers closed tightly upon her wrist. For a moment or more he sat in tense silence, then he got to his feet.
"Why do you want to know?" he demanded harshly.
She stood before him with bent head.
"Because," she said, and there was a piteous quiver in her voice, "I am lonely, and I have a very empty heart. And—and—if you love me it will not frighten me to know it. It will only—make me—glad."
He put his hand on her shoulder. "Do you know what you are saying?" he questioned.