“I don’t think; I know.”

“No, you know nothing, you know nothing at all about anything.  What did you think?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Hated you?”

“Yes.  Hated me like poison.”

He put his arms about her, gathering her to him!  He drew her head down over his heart.  “I hate you like this—­and this—­and this,” he said, kissing in turn her forehead, her eyelids and her mouth.  He held her at arm’s length and gazed at her as if he wondered whether they were the same woman, the Flossie he had once known, and this Flossie that he had kissed.  Then he led her to the sofa, and drew her down by his side, and held her hands to keep her there.  And yet he felt that it was he who was being led; he who was being drawn, he who was being held—­over the brink of the immeasurable, inexpiable folly.  In all this his genius remained alone and apart, unmoved by anything he did or said, as if it knew that through it all the golden chain still held.

Her mouth quivered.  “If you didn’t hate me, why were you so rude to me, then?” was the first thing she said.

“Because I loved you when I didn’t want to love you, and it was more than I could stand.  And because—­because I didn’t know it.  But you knew it,” he said almost savagely.  It seemed to him that his tongue refused the guidance of his brain.

“I’m sure I didn’t know anything of the sort.”  Her mouth quivered again; but this time it was with a smile.

“Why not?  Because I didn’t say so in a lot of stupid words?  You are literal.  But surely you understood?  Not just at first, of course; I didn’t care a bit at first; I didn’t care till long after.”

“Long after what?” Flossie was thinking of Miss Poppy Grace on the balcony next door.

“Never mind what.”

Flossie knew all about Miss Poppy Grace, and she didn’t mind at all.

“Would I be here now if I didn’t love you?” He still had to persuade himself that this was love.  It seemed incredible.

“Rubbish—­you know you only came to look at those silly old books,” said Flossie, nodding contemptuously towards the bookcase.

“Did you imagine I was in love with them?  And think of all the things we’ve done together.  Didn’t you know?  Didn’t you feel it coming on?”

“I know you’ve been orf’ly good—­orf’ly.  But as for anything else, I’m sure I never thought of it.”

“Then think of it now.  Or—­does that mean that you don’t care for me?”

There was an awful pause.  Then Flossie said very indistinctly, so indistinctly that he had to lean his face to hers to catch the words, “No, of course it doesn’t.”  Her voice cleared suddenly.  “But if you didn’t hate me, why did you go away?”

“I went away because I was ill.”

“And are you any better?”

“Yes, I think I’m better.  I think I’m nearly all right now.  I might say I’ll undertake never to be ill again, at least, not if you’ll marry me.”