“I cannot tell you.” Her tone was unshakably firm.
There was again a silence, in which he fought for mastery over himself. He looked at her in uncomprehending despair.
“Betty! Betty, tell me why?—For God’s sake, tell me why!—You used to love me. Tell me why you’ve changed!”
She evidently was also fighting to keep his emotion from communicating itself to her. He thought, as he waited for her answer, that her head never looked more nobly beautiful.
“Do you remember, Jack? Ten years ago?—Ten years to-day?—You said to me: ‘You cannot live without love!’ You were right.” A sob, that almost escaped its check, came into her voice. “I cannot live without love.”
He looked for yet another moment upon the sad dignity of her face, upon the quivering, sensitive mouth, upon the eyes that brimmed with tears—then, with an impulsive movement, he sprang forward, seized her two hands in his. The tears were in his eyes also, and in his voice.
“Oh, Betty, Betty darling! I remember! And I said ‘I love you! I love you! Trust yourself to it whatever happens!’—Oh, Betty! Is it too late? Is it too late?”
Her eyes looked deeply into his, incredulous at first of his sincerity, then softening in a wonderful certitude, she let herself go into his enfolding arms, her mouth drawn wistfully close to his, yet still, for a moment, withheld. All pride went out of her suddenly. She implored, like a soul that has an unbelievable chance of life.
“Oh, Jack! You do love me?—You love me still!—Oh, Jack, Jack!”
She buried her head upon his shoulder, her body shaking with sobs.