"I cannot answer for the inclination," she replied, "but as you have the moonlight and me, for the last four years, I may be pardoned if I doubt it."
"But do you doubt it?" he insisted.
"Certainly, I doubt it!—what woman would not?"
"No man would, if he could see you, now."
"Fol-de-rol!" she laughed, and snapped her fingers in his face. "Am I different from what I was last week, or last month, or last year?"
"No, you are not," said he. "I recognize it, now. Alas! that I did not recognize it sooner."
"And you expect me to believe?" she mocked—though her eyes belied her tones, had she but let him see them.
"No! all I can ask is that you be merciful."
"Do you even expect mercy?"