"Can—can you really love me?"
She scarcely said the words. Rather her lips formed them with no voice behind. But he had heard her before her lips so much as moved.
"Ach," he cried, "I hof alvays lofed you, Katie, but now it is somesing new und more. Katie, I sink—I belief sings I neffer belief before, und I sink it must be der blessing of Gott dot I can see in you."
"An' there won't be anny other woman?"
"You are all vomen, Katie."
She raised her head.
"Yes, Hermann," she said, "I think I will be all women for you. I will be all you want. I will work an' share, good luck an' bad. I never before was glad I knew how to work, but now I will be all you want—all, all!"
He put her hand to his lips, and held it there an instant: Fifth Avenue does these things, casually, no better than the Bowery, when the Bowery has a mind for them.
"Katie," he whispered.
She took her hand away. She tried to laugh a little, but the laughter, clear and silvery, caught suddenly in her throat. Her mouth twisted, and she raised the hand and put her lips where his had been.