"It is so much--or has been so much in all these years, when I had nothing but your name to love." "Will you not do it?
It is all I ask." "Indeed I will, if you would rather have it so.

Do you think there is anything that I would not do if you asked it of me ?" They were almost the words she had spoken to him that night when they were watching together by Israel Kafka's side.

She recognised them and a strange thrill of triumph ran through her.

What matter how?
What matter where?
The old reckless questions came to her mind again.

If he loved her, and if he would but call her Unorna, what could it matter, indeed?
Was she not herself?
She smiled unconsciously.
"I see it pleases you," he said tenderly.