“God! You poor child. I had no idea.”
“No – I know – you didn’t – know.”
“I must have made you very unhappy.”
“I imagined – that – you loved me.”
“It was cruel beyond words! I was blind and a fool. Are you going to forgive me?”
“I think – I have – forgiven you.”
“In which case will you not you look at me?”
Cornelia felt again that sense of panic, but no longer of fear – a panic of happiness, of wanting to run away from something too intense and too strong almost to be endured.
Yet she could not move but could only stand with her eyes downcast as the panic slowly gave way to a new, sweet and delicious shyness, the shyness of a woman before a man to whom she has surrendered herself.
“Look at me!” It was a command now, masterful and sure.
Then as she trembled, unable to obey him, he
