She kissed me back, freely and strongly. “I love you, Hodge,” she said; “I have loved you even through the bad dream of not being able to speak.”
“When I was so unfeeling.”
“I loved you even when you were impatient; I tried to make myself prettier for you. You know you have never said I was pretty.”
“You arent, Catty. Youre extraordinarily beautiful.”
“I think I would rather be pretty. Beauty sounds forbidding. Oh, Hodge, if I did not love you so much I would not have stopped you that day.”
“I’m not sure I understand that.”
“No? Well, it is not necessary now. Sometimes I wondered if I had been right after all, or if you would think it was because of Barbara.”
“Wasnt it?”
“No. I was never jealous of her. We Garcías are supposed to have Morisco blood; perhaps I have the harem outlook of my dark Muslim ancestors. Would you like me to be your black concubine?”
“No,” I said. “I’d like you to be my wife. In any colors you have.”