' You never spoke to me like that,' she said.
His white face looked down on her.
' No, dear. Since then, until weeks after we were married, I thought all power of feeling like that was dead in me. I had forgotten what it meant. I could not imagine ever wanting to care like that again. Then by degrees you and your sweetness and your love and your beauty awoke the desire again. That desire grew, and my power to feel it grew with it, till it trembled on the verge of passion. It was growing every day when things began to come between us, till in these last weeks we have been worse than strangers.'
Something woke in her eyes that he had not seen there for months.
' And will it grow again now?' she asked. ' Or have I spoiled it all?'
He drew her to him.
' Amelie, forgive me,' he said. ' Whether you can or not, I don't know, but if you still care for me at all, try, try to help me.'
The light in her eyes grew more wonderful.
' If I care for you?' she asked. ' If I care for you?'
He kissed her on her beautiful eyes and on her mouth.
' So it is all told, dear,' said he, ' and you will help me. You look very tired. I have been keeping you up.'
' I am not tired now,' she said. ' And, Bertie, Bertie, there is one thing yet. Before very many months I shall be the mother of your child.'
And the long pent-up tempest of her love for him broke, overwhelming and flooding her. Her arms were pressed round his neck, and from his shoulder she raised her face to his.
' Your child,' she whispered again.
