"Name it. I can still call you Bella, I suppose?"
"If you care to. What I want to say is this: when you meet me out—to cut it short—please not to recognize me."
"And why?"
"Do you ask to be told that?"
"Certainly I do."
"Then look: I won't compromise you."
"I see no harm, Bella."
"No," she caressed his hand, "and there is none. I know that. But," modest eyelids were drooped, "other people do," struggling eyes were raised.
"What do we care for other people?"
"Nothing. I don't. Not that!" snapping her finger, "I care for you, though." A prolonged look followed the declaration.