She moved her eyes to watch the leaves twinkling in front of the lime-kiln.
“I must go,” she said.
“'I must go'!” he mocked. “You are no sooner here than—'I must go'!”
“I can't be with you all the time. You don't care for appearances, so I have to.”
“Appearances are nothing. This is the only real thing in the universe.”
“But I really must go.” She lifted her wilful chin and sat still. They stared at each other in the silence of lovers. Though the girl's face was without a line, she was more skilled in the play of love than he.
“Indeed I must go. Your eyes are half shut, like a gentian.”
“When you are living intensely you don't look at the world through wide-open eyes,” said Maurice. “I never let myself go before. Repression has been the law of my life. Think of it! In a long lifetime I have loved but two persons—the woman I told you of, and you. Twenty years ago I found out what life meant. For the first time, I knew! But I was already married. I took that beautiful love by the throat and choked it down. Afterwards, when I was free, the woman I first loved was married. How long I have had to wait for you to bloom, lotus flower! This is living! All the other years were preparation.”
“Do you never see her?” inquired the girl.
“Who? That first one? I have avoided her.”