"He did not tell me what it was he said when at last he recovered his voice. I don't suppose he could be very eloquent. The world was still, the night breathed on them, one of those nights that seem created for the sheltering of tenderness, and there are moments when our souls, as if freed from their dark envelope, glow with an exquisite sensibility that makes certain silences more lucid than speeches. As to the girl, he told me, 'She broke down a bit. Excitement- don't you know. Reaction. Deucedly tired she must have been- and all that kind of thing. And- and- hang it all- she was fond of me, don't you see.... I, too... didn't know, of course... never entered my head....'
"There he got up and began to walk about in some agitation. 'I- I love her dearly. More than I could tell. Of course
