"Tell me, Herr Fritz," she demanded, pausing in front of him, "tell me honestly, have you ever loved in all your life?"
He jumped as if he had been struck,
"Loved? What do you mean?"
"Well, what should I mean?" she laughed, drumming with her fingers on the back of the rocking-chair. "What should I mean?"
He seemed to breathe more freely. "For love, properly speaking, I have neither the time nor the inclination," he said.
"And no woman has ever loved you?"
"Do I look," he asked, shrugging his shoulders, "as if anyone could love me?"
His utter despondency irritated her. But she turned it off with a playful "Now, now!" and shook her finger at him.
Again he looked alarmed, as if the mere suggestion of such a possibility filled him with anxiety.
The poor fellow! Never had a girl's eyes glowingly sought his; never had a woman's arms encircled his neck in rapture. The highest pleasure--the only thing that both for man and woman makes life worth living--he had been denied.