"I want to ask you just one question," said Margery steadily. "When I accused you of—of that—the other night, was I right or wrong?"
"Wrong," said Andrew Vane; "but now—"
Suddenly she leaned toward him, stopping his speech with her soft and open palm.
"I've thought of another question," she said. "Do you love me—now?"
"Love you?" answered Andrew. "Ah, Margery!"
"Then I wish to hear no more. The past is the past, do you hear? I love you! I've learned much in these few weeks. I love you, and I need you. You can't leave me now. I've been so weary for you, my love! Ah, whatever there has been between us in the past, don't let anything stand between us now!"
"But you don't understand," faltered Andrew. "Things have changed. There is much that you have to forgive me—much that I have to explain—"
"As to what I have to forgive you," answered Margery, "I think there is also much for you to forgive me; and as to what you have to explain—oh, explain it later, Andy—explain it, if you like, when we—"
"Are married!" exclaimed Andrew. "No! Things must be made clear now. I've transgressed, my love—transgressed beyond hope of forgiveness. What would you say if you knew—?"