But here was the true, staunch woman, great of heart and wise, a helper and a comrade, and, if I chose to throw off the jester and become the lover in real earnest and sweep my hand across the hidden chords, all that a woman can become towards the man she loves.

I realised this.
I realised that if she did not love me passionately now it was only because I, in my foolishness, had willed it otherwise.

For the first time I longed to have her as my own; for the first time I rebelled.
I looked at her hungeringly until her cheeks grew red and her eyelids fluttered.

I had a wild impulse to throw my arms around her, and kiss her as I had never kissed her before and bid her forget all that I had said that day.

Her faltering eyes told me that they read my longing.