"You will help me?" she said, in a beseeching tone. "You will help me to live, and be good, and to be a little like her? Poor Marthe, you will love her too?"
"We will love them both, as they both love each other."
"I wish they were here."
"They are here."
They sat there locked in each other's arms: they hardly breathed, and could feel heart beating to heart. A gentle drizzle was falling, falling. Jacqueline shivered.
"Let us go in," she said.
Under the trees it was almost dark. Olivier kissed Jacqueline's wet hair: she turned her face up to him, and, for the first time, he felt loving lips against his, a girl's lips, warm and parted a little. They were nigh swooning.
Near the house they stopped once more:
"How utterly alone we were!" he said.
He had already forgotten Christophe.