He tried to say something--he knew not what; but his throat was smitten with sudden dryness.

It seemed to him that he had sat there, for the best part of an hour, tongue-tied, looking stupidly at the confluence of the blue veins on her arm, longing to tell her that his senses swam with the temptation of her touch and the rise and fall of her bosom, through the great love he had for her, and yet terror-stricken lest she might discover his secret, and punish his audacity according to the summary methods of Juno, Diana, and other offended goddesses whom mortals dared to love.

It could only have been a few seconds, for he heard her voice in his ears, at first faint and then gathering distinctness, continuing in almost the same breath as her question.
"Would you?
Do you know the greatest pleasure you could give me?
It would be to become my brother--my real brother." He turned bewildered eyes upon her.
"Your brother ?" She laughed, half impatiently, half gaily, gave his hand a final tap and rose.

He stood, too, mechanically.
"I think you're the obtusest man I've ever met.

Anyone else would have guessed long ago.