"You believe then he is dead?"
"I am as sure of it as though I had seen his body. I feel it to be true." There was an instant of hesitation, while I waited breathlessly. "Do you understand now why because of the fact we can no longer remain friends?"
"Yes," I burst forth, "because you know how I have grown to feel toward you; you—you resent—"
"Have I said so?"
"No, not in words; that was not necessary, but I understand."
"Do you, indeed?"
I stared toward her, puzzled, bewildered, yet conscious that the hot blood was surging through my veins.
"You cannot mean the other?" I questioned, the swift words tripping over themselves in sudden eagerness. "That—that you love me?"
"And why not? Am I so different from other women?"
I held the tiller still with one hand, but the other arm was free, and I reached out, and drew her toward me. There was no resistance, no effort to break away. I could see her face uplifted, the wide-open eyes.