She stood in the sunlight, which poured through the window, and made a glory of her hair. Many thoughts flowed about her, many memories. Yet as he watched her narrowly, hungrily, he could see that these memories were not bitter.
"How little I knew about it! How little I understood—then," she murmured presently.
"Little blind girl, you understand no better now," said Gaunt.
She lifted to him a solemn gaze. "Osbert, are you sure?"
He put out his hands and gently turned her so that she stood facing him. "Do you suppose that, loving you as I do, I could bear to take you in my arms when I knew that you were fighting your natural inclination in order not to flinch from my touch?" he demanded.
She sighed, as if she felt that he was trying her too hard, but she made no attempt to shake off his light hold. Through her thin sleeves she felt the warmth of his hands. She felt, too, the slight vibration which, now that she understood, indicated to her the curb that he was using. Suddenly she gave a little gasping laugh, flashing a glance up at him.
"Osbert, if you know all about it, tell me—how does one fall in love?"
"How?" he stammered, for a moment at a loss.
"Why did you show me this?" she whispered, moving the least bit nearer to him, as she indicated the statue. "You mean me to see that love is—is a thing that masters you?"
He signified assent without speech.