“But you’d choose work.... Would you, Eris?”
“I—suppose so.... Probably I’d die in either case.... Work means life.... I guess you do, too. But if I had to choose I’d choose work, I suppose.”
Nothing ever had touched him so deeply; nor had so profoundly surprised him.
He said: “Every word I ever have heard you utter merely reveals new beauty in you,—and my own heart, more and more in love with you.”
He drew her close to his breast; spoke with his lips on her cheek:
“Would marrying me hamper you?... Had you rather wait until you are more secure in your profession?”
“Darling!” she said pitifully, “—that is what I had to tell you. I am married.”
He stared at her astounded.
After a tense silence: “Please love me—Barry——” she whispered. “Please, dear!”
She clasped her hands in appeal, as unconscious of drama as she had been that day on Whitewater Brook when Mr. Quiss threatened to swim out of her ken.