He looked in dazed wonder. “You know? And—you do not condemn?”
“That other woman—do you love her?”
“No, Teresa. I have not seen her for two years.”
“Did she ever love you?”
“Never in her life,” he answered, his face again averted.
Her own was glowing with a strange light. “Look at me,” she said softly.
He turned to her, his eyes—golden-gray like seaweed glimpsed through deep water—cored with a hungry, hopeless fire which seemed to transform her whole frame to thirsty tinder.
... FEELING HER FORM SWAY TOWARD HIM WITH FIERCE TUMULTUOUS GLADNESS. p. [289].
“Ah,” she whispered, “do you think it could matter, then?”