"And I love you, Paul, because you are you!"
And even then he did not clasp her in his arms, nor attempt it. She was another's now, and his hands were tied. He must try to control his one great weakness—the longing for her.
And in the few moments left to them, they talked and cheered each other, as intimate friends on the eve of a long separation. They both knew now that they loved—but they also knew that they must part—and forever!
"I love you, Paul," said Opal, "even as you love me. I do not hesitate to confess it again, because—well, I am not yet his wife. And I want to give you this one small comfort to help to make you strong to fight and conquer, and—endure!"
"But, Opal, you are the one woman in the world God meant for me! How can I face the world without you?"
"Better that you should, Paul, and keep on fancying yourself loving me always, than that you should have me for a wife, and then weary of me, as men do weary of their wives!"
"Opal! Never!"
"Oh, but you might, Boy. Most men do. It's their nature, I suppose."
"But it is not my nature, Opal, to grow tired of what I love. I am not capricious. Why should you think so?"
"But it's human nature, Paul; there is no denying that. To think, Paul, that we could grow to clasp hands like this—that we could kiss—actually kiss, Paul, calmly, as women kiss each other—that we could ever rest in each other's arms and grow weary!"