"I want you to marry your cousin," she said.
"Is that the only reason?"
"Is n't that a sufficient reason?"
Again there was the flicker of a smile.
"For heaven's sake, look at me. Don't keep your face turned away.
Then you don't—you don't care for me—not an atom?"
"I"—she could not deny herself one instant of weakness more, one supreme instant; afterwards she would be stern in earnest, she would draw back—"I never meant to let you know I did."
And for the first time between two heart-beats her eyes met his, stayed with his.
For the time between two heart-beats, Time stood still, the world stood still, Time and the world ceased to be. Her eyes stayed with his. There was nothing else in all created space but her two eyes, her soft and deep, dark and radiant eyes. Far, far within them shone a light. Her soul came forth from its hiding place, and shining far, far within her eyes, showed itself to his soul, yielded itself to his soul.
"Then you do—you do," he cried. It was almost a wail. The universe reeled round him.
He had sprung to his feet. He threw himself on the bench beside her, facing her. He seized her hands again. He tried again to get her eyes.