"No, I haven't told you," she repeated, stupidly.
"That's because you would. That's because you love me. You do love me."
"I've always loved you."
She spoke as if from some far-off place; as if the eternity of her love removed her from him, put her beyond his reach.
"But—what's the good of talking about it?" she said.
"All the good in the world. We owed each other the truth. We know it now; we know where we are. We needn't humbug ourselves and each other any more. You see what comes of keeping back the truth. Look how we've had to pay for it. You and me. Would you rather go on thinking I didn't care for you?"
"No, Jerrold, no. I'm only wondering what we're to do next."
"Next?"
"Yes. That's why you want me to go away."
"It isn't. It's why I want you to stay. I want you to leave off working and do all the jolly things we used to do."