"Yes," said he with a low laugh; "and so are you. When you and I mean a thing, we mean it."
Rotha wondered that he could mean it, and she wondered how he could know that she meant it. Had she somehow betrayed herself? and how? She felt very humble, and very proud at the same time; in one way esteeming at its full value the woman's heart and life she had to give, as every woman should; in another way thinking it not half good enough. Shamefaced, because her secret was found out, yet too honest and noble of nature to attempt any poor effort at deceit, she stood with lights and shadows flying over her face in a lovely and most womanly manner; yet mostly lights, of shy modesty and half veiled gladness and humble content. Fifty things came to her lips to say, and she could speak none of them; and she began to wish the silence would be broken.
"How did you know, Mr. Southwode?" she burst forth at last, that question pressing too hard to be satisfied.
"Know what?" said he.
"I mean—you know what I mean! I mean,—now came you—what made you— speak as you did? I mean! that isn't it. I mean, what justification did you think you had?"
Mr. Southwode laughed his low laugh again.
"Do I need justification?"
"Yes, for jumping at conclusions."
"That is the way they say women always do."
"Not in such things!"