She could wait no longer.
With a tired sigh, and with an impulsive movement all her own, unpremeditated, spasmodic, she rested her head upon his breast.

His head bent over swiftly, and, as his lips approached, hers flew to meet them.
This must be love, she thought, in the one rational moment that was vouchsafed her.

If it was not love, it was too shameful.

It could be nothing else than love.

She loved the man whose arms were around her and whose lips were pressed to hers.