He had no more intention of telling her he loved her, indeed he had no more idea that he did love her, than Whiteside would have had.

Yet he knew he spoke the truth and that a power greater than he had framed the words and put them on his lips.
The effect on the girl seemed extraordinary to him.

She did not shrink back, she did not look surprised.

She showed no astonishment whatever.
She just brought her eyes back to the table and said: "Oh!" That calm, almost uncannily calm acceptance of a fact which Tarling had not dared to breathe to himself, was the second shock of the evening.
It was as though she had known it all along.

He was on his knees by her side and his arm was about her shoulders, even before his brain had willed the act.
"My girl, my girl," he said gently.