‘Why should I answer all the questions?’ He took her face between his hands.  What if the wife’s love should fail first?’

‘You can say that lightly, because you know—­’

‘What do I know?’

’You know that I am all love of you.  As long as I am myself, I must love you.  It was because I had no will of my own left, because I lived only in the thought of you day and night—­’

Their lips met in a long silence.

‘I mustn’t stay past four o’clock,’ were Nancy’s next words.  ’I don’t like to be away long from the house.  Father won’t ask me anything, but he knows I’m away somewhere, and I’m afraid it makes him angry with me.’  She examined the room.  ’How comfortable you are here! what a delightful old place to live in!’

‘Will you look at the other rooms?’

’Not to-day—­when I come again.  I must say good-bye very soon—­ oh, see how the time goes!  What a large library you have!  You must let me look at all the books, when I have time.’

‘Let you?  They are yours as much as mine.’

Her face brightened.

’I should like to live here; howl should enjoy it after that hateful Grove Lane!  Shall I live here with you some day?’

’There wouldn’t be room for two.  Why, your dresses would fill the whole place.’

She went and stood before the shelves.

‘But how dusty you are!  Who cleans for you?’

’No one.  A very rickety old woman draws a certain number of shillings each week, on pretence of cleaning.’

’What a shame!  She neglects you disgracefully.  You shall go away some afternoon, and leave me here with a great pile of dusters.’

’You can do that kind of thing?  It never occurred to me to ask you:  are you a domestic person?’

She answered with something of the old confident air.

’That was an oversight, wasn’t it?  After all, how little you know about me!’

‘Do you know much more of me?’

Her countenance fell.

’You are going to tell me—­everything.  How long have you lived here?’

‘Two years and a half.’

’And your friends come to see you here?  Of course they do.  I meant, have you many friends?’

‘Friends, no.  A good many acquaintances.’

‘Men, like yourself?’

‘Mostly men, fellows who talk about art and literature.’

‘And women?’ Nancy faltered, half turning away.

’Oh, magnificent creatures—­Greek scholars—­mathematicians—­ all that is most advanced!’

‘That’s the right answer to a silly question,’ said Nancy humbly.

Whereat, Tarrant fixed his gaze upon her.

‘I begin to think that—­’

He checked himself awkwardly.  Nancy insisted on the completion of his thought.

‘That of all the women I know, you have the most sense.’

‘I had rather hear you say that than have a great fortune.’  She blushed with joy.  ’Perhaps you will love me some day, as I wish to be loved.’