With a little cry she rose up against the wall.
“Indeed, I love you,” she said, breathing hard. “Ah, indeed—indeed—”
Then she sank down again, hiding her face in her fluttering hands.
He looked at her curiously, his lips touched with his little lazy half-smile.
“I do not deserve it, Delia,” he said; then in a strange voice: “You and I—by such ways to this! You and I—look up and speak to me.”
She dropped her hands and looked at him.
“I may speak,” she said hoarsely, “but never shall I tell how utterly I love you—beyond all reason—all measure. Ah, since I first saw you the world has stopped about me, and there has been nothing but this one thought of you!”
He caught his breath.
“Why—are these things possible?” he asked. “And you do not know me.”
She rose and turned to him in a triumphant passion, her hand lightly on her heart.