Still she looked straight at him, and he at her. Gradually he came to understand what she meant.
“Alice—it’s me you love! No, don’t answer me till I’ve spoken. I told you that I found myself last night, and found out that I loved a woman, really and truly loved her. You’re the woman, Alice, but I never dreamed that you could care for me. Tell me now—is it me?”
There was no necessity for her to speak. The light in her eyes was more eloquent than any words could have been, and careless whether anyone was watching, he seized her hands in his.
“Alice, you do love me?”
Then he drew himself apart quickly, saying:
“I forgot.”
“What is it?”
“Agatha.”
“I don’t pretend not to know what you mean,” she said slowly. “Do you think I haven’t thought of her? If she had loved you, or been able to love you, you should never have known. But as things are—there’s only one way—we love.”