Her hands were mutinous of the restraint he put upon them, and unconsciously she was beginning to pull and tug to be away from him. Also, there was fear in her eyes. He knew her fastidiousness, and he guessed, with the other man’s lips recent on hers, that she feared a more ardent expression on his part.
“And please, please be not frightened, timid, sweet, beautiful, proud, little bird-woman. See. I release you. Know that I love you most dearly, and that I am considering you as well as myself, and before myself, all the while.”
He drew his chair away from her, leaned back, and saw confidence grow in her eyes.
“I shall tell you all my heart,” he continued, “and I shall want you to tell me all your heart.”
“This love for me is something new?” she asked. “A recrudescence?”
“Yes, a recrudescence, and no.”
“I thought that for a long time I had been a habit to you,” she said.
“But I was loving you all the time.”
“Not madly.”
“No,” he acknowledged. “But with certainty. I was so sure of you, of myself. It was, to me, all a permanent and forever established thing. I plead guilty. But when that permanency was shaken, all my love for you fired up. It was there all the time, a steady, long-married flame.”