"What is it ?" "Oh!" he exclaimed in an agony, "a very short one.

I love you, that's all." A little quiver ran through her, causing her dress to shake and the gold Mexican gods on her necklace to tinkle against each other.

Then she grew still as a stone, and raising those large and steady eyes of hers, looked him up and down, finally fixing them upon his own.
"Is that true ?" she asked.
"True! It is as true as life and death, or as Heaven and Hell." "I don't know anything about Heaven and Hell; they are hypothetical, are they not?
Life and death are enough for me," and she stopped.
"Then by life and death, for life and death, and for ever, I love you, Isobel." "Thank you," she said, and stopped once more.
"You don't help one much.

Have you nothing to say ?" "What is there to say?
You made a statement for which I thanked you.
You asked no question." "It is a question," he exclaimed indignantly.

"If I love you, of course I want to know if you love me." "Then why did you not say so?
But," she added very deliberately, "since you want to know, I do and always have and always shall, in life or death--and for ever--if that means anything." He stared at her, tried to utter something and failed.