“And yet—you won’t marry him, you foolish girl?”
“Oh no, no!”
“Although you love him!”
“Love him!” Etruria murmured, her face burning. “It is because I love him, Miss, that I will never, never marry him.”
Mary wondered. “And yet you love him?” she said, raising the candle so that its light fell on the other’s face.
Etruria looked this way and that way, but there was no escape. In a very small voice she said,
“Love seeketh not itself to please
Nor for itself hath any care!”
She covered her hot cheeks with her hands. But Mary took away the hands and kissed her.
“Oh, Miss!” Etruria exclaimed.
Mary went out then, but on the threshold of her own room she paused to snuff her candle. “So that is love,” she thought. “It’s very interesting, and—and rather beautiful!”