She stroked the roses.
"Will you?"
"I can make no promise. Rather ask the question. If I see the wisdom of answering it, I shall do so."
"Is there another man?" He did not look at her but rather at her fingers embedded in the roses. Silence, which grew and lengthened.
"What do you mean?" she asked evenly, when she realized that the silence was becoming too long.
"In Venice you told me that there was a barrier. I ask now if this barrier be a man."
"Yes."
A wrinkle of pain passed over his heart. "If you love him—"
"Love him? No, no!... I had hoped you would not speak like this; I relied upon your honor."
"Is it dishonorable for me to love you?"