When I was able to speak:
“I went to his place this morning, and they let me in.”
Her eyes rose to mine and dwelt there quietly.
“I saw his face, dead. Even in death it was noble. He must have been a great man, Mildred.”
Her eyes assented, serenely.
I made my eyes see only the loveliness of this girl: but perhaps my mouth trembled with a jealous pain.
“John,” she answered both my eyes and my mouth, “you are suffering too. You are afraid Philip’s death has given him an advantage over you—a sort of perfection easier to love than your own struggling life. That’s not true, John. Would I lunch with you in this gay place to-day, not twenty-four hours after his death, if I responded in such a foolish way to life? You are very dear to me, John: I know that also.”
I could not speak. So I took from my pocket the envelope and gave it her, in silence.
She examined it, turning it about. Her eyes met mine fully:
“How amazing! How amazing!” she whispered. “Where does this come from?”