"For him who loves me," she said.
"For me!"
"For him who loves me," she repeated.
"Then it is for me!"
She had moved back, showing a harder figure, or the "I love you, love you!" would have sounded with force. It came, though not so vehemently as might have been, to the appeal of a soft fixed look.
"Yes, I love you, Charlotte; you know that I do."
"You love me?"
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I love you! Dead, inanimate Charlotte, I love you!"