'And I told you there was some one else. Do you understand clearly? I am frank, too. I love another man, and he loves me.'
'And you are going to be married, I suppose?' said Logotheti, his lids contracting a very little.
'I hope so. Some day.'
'Ah! There is an obstacle. I see. A question of fortune, I daresay?'
'No.' Her tone was meant to discourage further questioning, and she moved in her seat and looked away again.
'That man does not love you,' Logotheti said. 'If he did, nothing could hinder your marriage, since he knows that you are willing.'
'There may be a reason you don't understand,' Margaret answered reluctantly.
'A man who loves does not reason. A man who wants a certain woman wants nothing else, any more than a man who is dying of thirst can want anything but drink. He must have it or die, and nothing can keep him from it if he sees it.'
There was a shade of more energy in his tone now, though he still spoke quietly enough. Margaret was silent again, possibly because the same thought had crossed her own mind during the last few days, and even an hour ago, when she had met Lushington at the door. Since she was willing to marry him, in spite of his birth, could he be in earnest as long as he hesitated?
She wished that he might have said what Logotheti was saying now, instead of reasoning with her about a point of honour.