He asked the old question with a shaking voice.

"Alice," he said, "have I vexed you ?" She turned to him a pale, distraught face, her eyes brimming over with the sorrow of love, the passionate adventurous longing which claims true hearts for ever.
He caught her in his arms, his heart in a glory of joy.
"Oh, Alice, darling," he cried.

"What has happened to us?
I love you, I love you, and you have never given me a chance to say it." She lay passive in his arms for one brief minute and then feebly drew back.
"Sweetheart," he cried.

"Sweetheart! For I will call you sweetheart, though we never meet again.

You are mine, Alice.