"What is it, Quinny?" she demanded, more anxiously.
But still he would not tell her ... he must have her love a little longer.
"Mary, I love you so much, dear ... oh, I feel like a fool when I try to tell you how much I love you!"
"I know you love me, Quinny!"
"And now ... this very minute ... I love you far more than I've ever loved you. Every bit of me is in love with you, Mary. You're very sweet and dear!..."
She had a sense of impending disaster, but she did not express it in her words. "And I love you, Quinny!" she said. "I can't love you more than I've always loved you!..."
"Could you love me less than you've always loved me?" he asked, turning and standing before her so that his eyes were looking into hers.
"I don't know," she answered. "I've never tried!"
He did not say any more for a few moments, but stood with his hands on her shoulders, looking steadily into her eyes, while she looked steadily into his. Then he took his hands from her shoulders and drew her into the shelter of his arms, and kissed her, letting his lips lie long on hers.
"What do you want to tell me?" she said in a whisper.