THE WINGS OF THE DOVE
"Positively. Never." To which she added oddly: "I know without."
He had another pause. "And what is it you know?"
"That she announces to you she has made you rich."
His pause this time was longer. "Left me her fortune?"
"Not all of it, no doubt, for it's immense. But money to a large amount. I don't care," Kate went on, "to know how much." And her strange smile recurred. "I trust her."
"Did she tell you?" Densher asked.
"Never!" Kate visibly flushed at the thought. "That wouldn't, on my part, have been playing fair with her. And I did," she added, "play fair."
Densher, who had believed her—he couldn't help it—continued, holding his letter, to face her. He was much quieter now, as if his torment had some how passed. "You played fair with me, Kate; and that's why—since we talk of proofs—I want to give you one. I've wanted to let you see—and in preference even to myself—something I feel as sacred."
She frowned a little. "I don't understand."
"I've asked myself for a tribute, for a sacrifice by which I can specially recognise———"
"Specially recognise what?" she demanded as he dropped.
"The admirable nature of your own sacrifice.
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