“But don’t you know, dear heart?”
The fingers in his fluttered. “Yes—I know.”
The words were almost inaudible. And he was forced to lean close in order to hear them at all. Then almost before she knew it, his arms were about her. His lips rained kisses upon her averted face.
“Carissima, it is I whom you love. I, Vittorio! How many times shall I have to tell it to you?”
The exultant voice deafened her. Giddy, on the point of defeat, she pushed him away with the palms of her hands, and fell into a chair.
“Don’t. Don’t.” Face hidden in her fingers, she began to sob weakly.
“Yes, yes. It is the only way to save you from yourself.”
Falling on his knees beside the chair, he removed the hands from her tear-wet face. “Now—tell me all,” he commanded.
She faltered out the pitiful story of Claire’s death and Alexis’s remorse.
“So you see how he needs me,” she ended.