“My name is Jane.” It came back to me that I had said this to him once before.
“You don’t care for me at all?”
“I am glad you thought of the intensive iodide treatment. It has its advantages over hyoscine.”
“You have not changed?”
“I would rather like you to remember this is the twentieth century.”
He sighed and took his hand off my knee, drew it across his forehead.
“You don’t know what the last few months have meant to me, coming up here again, every day or twice a day, taking care of you, giving you back those letters, knowing you knew....”
“You had not the temptation to rid yourself of me again?”
“You have grown so cold. I suppose you would not look at the idea of marrying me?”
“You suppose quite correctly,” I answered, thinking of Ella, and what a score this would be to her.