"To say _that_ to me--and now--now, when it is too late." "Too late, indeed!" echoes she.
Her voice sounds like the voice of one dying.

She covers her face with her hands.

He knows that she is crying.

Very gently he takes down one of the hands and holds it between both his own, and presses it to his lips.

How dear she has always been to him! He realizes in this moment how dear she still _is._ "Marian, have pity on me," says he hoarsely.