"I regret you should say this."
"No more than I do; the words have been wrung from me."
"And we are to be friends no longer? Is that your meaning?"
"You must answer that question," I replied gravely, "for it is beyond my power to decide."
Her head was again uplifted, and I knew she was endeavoring to see my face through the gloom. There was silence, the only sounds the slash of the boat through the water, and the slight flapping of the canvas.
"I am a woman," she said at last, "and we like to pretend to misunderstand, but I am not going to yield to that inclination. I do understand, and will answer frankly. We can never be friends as we were before."
My heart sank, and I felt a choke in my voice difficult to overcome.
"I was afraid it would be so."
"Yes," and both her hands were upon mine, "in our position we cannot afford to play at cross purposes. You have been loyal to me, even when every inducement was offered elsewhere. There was a moment when I almost doubted, but it was only for a moment. Then I seemed to sense your plan, your purpose, and from that time on I have trusted you more completely than ever before. This is confessing a great deal, for it is my nature to be reticent—I have always been hard to become acquainted with."
"I have not found you so; I feel as though I had known you always."