She had moved back, showing a harder figure, or the "I love you, love
you!" would have sounded with force. It came, though not so vehemently
as might have been, to the appeal of a soft fixed look.

"Yes, I love you, Charlotte; you know that I do."

"You love me?"

"Yes."

"Say it."

"I love you! Dead, inanimate Charlotte, I love you!"

She threw out her hand as one would throw a bone to a dog.

"My living, breathing, noble Charlotte," he cried, a little bewitched, "I
love you with all my heart!"

It surprised him that her features should be gradually expressing less
delight.

"With all your heart?"

"Could I give you a part?"

"It is done, sometimes," she said, mock-sadly. Then, in her original
voice: "Good. I never credited that story of you and the girl Emilia.
I suppose what people say is a lie?"