'There is no denying it,' Logotheti said at last, with profound conviction. 'I do not care a straw what becomes of any living creature but you.'
She did not turn her head, and her fingers still touched the Tanagra, but he saw the rare blush spread up the cheek that was turned to him; and because she stopped moving the statuette about, and looked at it intently, he guessed that she was not colouring from annoyance at what he had said. She blushed so very seldom now, that it might mean much more than in the old days at Versailles.
'I did not think it would last so long,' she said gently, after a little while.
'What faith can one expect of a Greek!'
He laughed, too wise in woman's ways to be serious too long just then.
But she shook her head and turned to him with the smile he loved.
'I thought it was something different,' she said. 'I was mistaken. I believed you had only lost your head for a while, and would soon run after some one else. That's all.'
'And the loss is permanent. That's all!' He laughed again as he repeated her words. 'You thought it was "something different"—do you know that you are two people in one?'
She looked a little surprised.
'Indeed I do!' she answered rather sadly. 'Have you found it out?'
'Yes. You are Margaret Donne and you are Cordova. I admire Cordova immensely, I am extremely fond of Margaret, and I'm in love with both. Oh yes! I'm quite frank about it, and it's very unlucky, for whichever one of your two selves I meet I'm just as much in love as ever! Absurd, isn't it?'