She turned her deep, sad eyes to him, and looked at him without speaking. He was on the point of telling her that he loved her—then he saw how beautiful she was, and he felt his withered knee under his hand, and he was ashamed to speak. It was a cruel moment, and his nerves were already overstrained by perpetual emotion, as well as tired from late hours and lack of sleep. He hesitated a moment. Then bent his head and covered his eyes with his hand. Laura said nothing for several moments, but seeing that he did not move, she touched his sleeve.
"Dear Lord Herbert, do not be so unhappy," she said softly. "You really have no right to be, you know."
"No right?" He looked up suddenly. "If you knew, you would not say that."
"I should always say it. As long as you have friends—friends who love you, and would do anything for you, why should you make yourself so miserable?"
"I want more than a friend—even than friendship."
"What?"
"I want love."
Again she gazed into his eyes and paused. Her face was very white—whiter than his. Then she spoke.
"Are you so sure you have not got that love?" she asked. Her own voice trembled now.
Arden started and a look of something almost like fear came into his face. He could hardly speak.