"It IS a foolish form of speech, no doubt," returned Bascombe, a little disconcerted, as was natural. "—But to be serious, Helen, I do love you."
"How long will you love me if I tell you I don't love you?"
"Really, Helen, I don't see how to answer such a question. I don't understand you at all to-day! Have I offended you? I am very sorry if I have, but I am quite in the dark as to when or where or how."
"Tell me then," said Helen, heedless of his evident annoyance and discomfort, "how long will you love me if I love you in return?"
"For ever and ever."
"Another form of speech?"
"You know what I mean well enough. I shall love you as long as I live."
"George, I never could love a man who believed I was going to die for ever."
"But, Helen," pleaded Bascombe, "if it can't be helped, you know!"
"But you are content it should be so. You believe it willingly. You scoff at any hint of a possible immortality."