"Say it, Jacqueline, if it is true," he whispered. His face was tense and white, but not as pale as hers. "Say it!" he whispered again.
"I can't—in words. But it is true—what you asked me."
"That you love me?"
"Yes. I thought you knew it long ago."
They stood very still, facing each other, breathing more rapidly. Her fate was upon her, and she knew it.
Captain Herrendene, who had waited, watched them for a moment more, then, lighting a cigarette, sauntered on carelessly, swinging his hockey-stick in circles.
Desboro said in a low, distinct voice, and without a tremor: "I am more in love with you than ever, Jacqueline. But that is as much as I shall ever say to you—nothing more than that."
"I know it."
"Yes, I know you do. Shall I leave you in peace? It can still be done. Or—shall I tell you again that I love you?"
"Yes—if you wish, tell me—that."