“How much have you done this morning?” she inquired, looking at his desk.
“Enough to tide over the time until you came. Determination and execution are not one with me now.” Her hands were cold, and he warmed them against his face.
“It was during your married life that determination and execution were one?”
“Decidedly. For that was my plodding age. Sometimes when I am tingling with impatience here I look back in wonder on the dogged drive of those days. Work is an unhappy man's best friend. I have no concealments from you, Lily. You know I never loved my wife—not this way—though I made her happy; I did my duty. She told me when she died that I had made her happy. People cannot help their limitations.”
“Do you love me?” she asked, her lips close to his ear.
“I am you! Your blood flows through my veins. I feel you rush through me. You don't know what it is to love like that, do you?”
She shook her head.
“When you are out of my sight I do not live; I simply wait. What is the weird power in you that creates such gigantic passion?”
“The power is all in your imagination. You simply don't know me. You think I am a prize. Why, I—flirt—and I've—kissed men!”
He laughed. “You would be a queer girl, at your age, if you hadn't—kissed men—a little. Whatever your terrible past has been, it has made you the infinite darling that you are!”