"You don't feel that he's important?"
"Not in the very least."
She laughed.
"When I said that I knew all about you, I only meant that I knew—I'd the sense to see—what you were. You mustn't think that I take anything for granted."
"Ah, Mr. Lucy, dear, I'm afraid you're taking everything for granted."
"On my soul I'm not. I'm not that sort. There's one thing about you I don't know yet, and I'm afraid to ask, and it's the only thing I really want to know. It's the only thing that matters."
"Then ask me, ask me straight, whatever it is, and let's get it over. Can't you trust me to tell you the truth?"
"I trust you—to tell me the truth. I want to know where I am—where we are."
"Is it for me to say?"
"It's for you to say whether you think you can ever care for me."