A spasm of pain passed over his face. "I shouldn't blame you. How could I?"
"Wouldn't it make any difference in your loving me?"
"Not an iota."
"Wouldn't you even care?" she flashed in resentful wrath.
"Care? Good God, Pat, if you saw a man in torture——"
"Oh, don't, Cary, dear," she cried, startled and remorseful. "It isn't true. It's just my sneaking, rotten curiosity to know how you'd feel about it." She pursed her lips, musing darkly. "I wonder," she began. "Have you been true to me? Not that I've got any right to ask or that it makes a bit of difference in my young life whether you have or not, but just——"
She broke off, leaning forward, studying his face as he looked at her in silence.
"Cary! Why don't you say something? I would care. I'd care like hell."
"I came back," he said slowly, "because you are the one and only woman in the world for me and always have been since I saw you. Is that enough answer?"
"From any other man in the world it wouldn't be an answer at all. From you it's enough."