'I don't,' I said, 'but you know quite well that I never would leave you, however much I loved any one else.'
'But I would leave you, if I thought you loved any one else.'
'But I wouldn't let you know.'
'But you couldn't help it.'
'But I never shall love any one.'
'How do you know that? I thought I never should love any one; but, you see, I do. I hope you'll love some one some day who doesn't love you, and then you'll know what I have to suffer.'
A pause.
'Supposing,' said I, 'that I loved you, and you didn't love me.'
'Yes.'
'Well, supposing you loved somebody else, and left me, I shouldn't mind always being your friend.'
She gave a short laugh.
'Wouldn't you! Oh no! I tell you: if I ever found out that you touched any woman besides me, I would go away from you! I would never see you again! You never should touch me again! The idea of being your—friend, as you call it! Do you think I could look at any woman, and know that she had you, and … and not kill her?'
She stopped: then began shaking her head and laughing to herself. I eyed her from under gathered brows: I suspected the actor's sense in her as well as in myself. I turned her head round to me and kissed her full and long on the lips. The effect was strange.—It was a new child this, here with me in a new place of early day's air and light. I could scarcely think of the old self of hers that was now gone, gone I knew not where.
'Kiss me again,' she said in a low, half-breathless voice, bringing her mouth towards mine, 'kiss me!'
A certain devil's light of mirth came into my eyes; I laughed at her, and drew sharply back with back-spread arms.
'No, no, no,' I said, 'you little green-eyed monster you! You shall chase me for another kiss, if you want it. I …' I had stopped.
