"And would you have the courage, in spite of your family and of society, to marry me, a woman practically nameless, older than yourself—"
"I not only would, but I will," answered Orsino.
"You cannot—but I thank you, dear," said Maria Consuelo.
He was standing close beside her. She took his hand and tenderly touched it with her lips. He started and drew it back, for no woman had ever kissed his hand.
"You must not do that!" he exclaimed, instinctively.
"And why not, if I please?" she asked, raising her eyebrows with a little affectionate laugh.
"I am not good enough to kiss your hand, darling—still less to let you kiss mine. Never mind—we were talking—where were we?"
"You were saying—" But he interrupted her.
"What does it matter, when I love you so, and you love me?" he asked passionately.
He knelt beside her as she lay on the lounge and took her hands, holding them and drawing her towards him. She resisted and turned her face away.