Blix rose and groped for a moment upon the mantel-shelf, then returned and handed him a match, and stood over him while he scraped it under the arm of the chair wherein he sat.

Even when his cigarette was lighted she still stood there, looking at him, the fingers of her hands clasped in front of her, her hair, one side of her cheek, her chin, and sweet, round neck outlined by the faint blur of light that came from the open window.

Then quietly she said: "Well, Condy ?" "Well, Blix ?" "Just 'well' ?" she repeated.

"Is that all?
Is that all you have to say to me ?" He gave a great start.
"Blix!" he exclaimed.
"Is that all?
And you are going to let me go away from you for so long, and say nothing more than that to me?
You think you have been so careful, think you have kept your secret so close! Condy, don't you suppose I know?
Do you suppose women are so blind?
No, you don't need to tell me; I know--I've known it--oh, for weeks!" "You know--know--know what ?" he exclaimed, breathless.
"That you have been pretending that you did not love me.

I know that you do love me--I know you have been trying to keep it from me for fear it would spoil our good times, and because we had made up our minds to be chums, and have 'no more foolishness.' Once--in those days when we first knew each other--I knew you did not love me when you said you did; but now, since--oh, since that afternoon in the Chinese restaurant, remember ?--I've known that you did love me, although you pretended you didn't.