of knowing. I know, I know, I know!'—she breathed it ever so gently.
'Yes; that 's what has been between us,' he answered much more simply.
She could enjoy his simplicity in silence, and for a moment she did so. 'If I do stay because you want it—and I'm rather capable of that—there are two or three things I think you ought to remember. One is, you know, that I'm there sometimes for days and weeks together without your ever coming.'
'Oh, I'll come every day!' he exclaimed.
She was on the point, at this, of imitating with her hand his movement of shortly before; but she checked herself, and there was no want of effect in the tranquillising way in which she said: 'How can you? How can you?' He had, too manifestly, only to look at it there, in the vulgarly animated gloom, to see that he couldn't; and at this point, by the mere action of his silence, everything they had so definitely not named, the whole presence round which they had been circling became a part of their reference, settled solidly between them. It was as if then,
