His voice had changed. It seemed as if he strove to keep to his old ironic note; but some other force throbbed in his undertone, and it affected Virginia strangely.
"Of course I am. I promised," she assured him instantly, raising her sweet, puzzled eyes to his tense face.
He gave a laugh which startled her, tossed the package of letters upon the table, rose, and went to the window.
"And are you so ignorant of the meaning of things that you think, after the confession I have just made, that this will satisfy me?" he flung over his shoulder.
She rose too. "I—I don't think I understand," she faltered.
"I'm only a man, just a human man. I want love," he blurted out, his face still averted.
"But isn't that love?" she wondered, as though thinking out a problem aloud for herself. "You are ready to sacrifice everything for me—even your life—because you love me. I am ready to sacrifice—I mean, to do and be what you would have me do and be. Isn't that love?"
"No, it isn't," he bluntly answered.
She grew pale, and twisted her hands tightly together. "Then—then what is it?" she breathed.
Taking no notice of her, he came back to the hearth and rang the bell. Having done so, he remained with one hand on the mantel and one foot on the fender, gazing at the fire, ignoring, as it seemed, her very presence.