“Ella, Ella—for God’s sake——”
“You told me that terrible secret of your life—that you loved me. I wonder if I knew what it meant, Bertie? I told you that I loved you: that was more terrible still. I wonder if you knew what that meant, Bertie?”
He did not speak.
The bird’s songs outside were becoming softer and more intermittent.
She gave a sudden cry as if stung with pain, and started away from the window. She threw herself down on the couch, burying her face in the pillows—he could see through the dim room the whiteness of her arms. She was breathing convulsively; but she was not sobbing.
He remained beside the open window. He, too, was not breathing so regularly as he had breathed a short time before.
He heard the sigh that came from her as she raised her head from the pillow.
Then she said:
“I wonder if you ever really loved me, Bertie.”
“Oh, my God!”