Right in that!
Rosmer.
[Lays his hat down on the table.] The question that haunts me is this: were we two not deceiving ourselves all the time—when we called our relation friendship?
Rebecca.
You mean that it might as well have been called——?
Rosmer.
——love. Yes, Rebecca, that is what I mean. Even while Beata was alive, all my thoughts were for you. It was you alone I longed for. It was when you were by my side that I felt the calm gladness of utter content. If you think it over, Rebecca—did we not feel for each other from the first a sort of sweet, secret child-love—desireless, dreamless? Was it not so with you? Tell me.
Rebecca.
[Struggling with herself.] Oh—I don’t know what to answer.
Rosmer.