here for nothing. That isn't what I came for. I thought I
shouldn't care. I came because I wanted to assure myself that I
needn't think of you any more. I haven't thought of anything else,
and you're quite right to wish me to go away. But if I must go,
there's no harm in my letting myself out for a single moment, is
there? If you're really hurt--if HE hurts you--nothing I say will
hurt you. When I tell you I love you it's simply what I came for.
I thought it was for something else; but it was for that. I
shouldn't say it if I didn't believe I should never see you again.
It's the last time--let me pluck a single flower! I've no right to
say that, I know; and you've no right to listen. But you don't
listen; you never listen, you're always thinking of something else.
After this I must go, of course; so I shall at least have a
reason. Your asking me is no reason, not a real one. I can't
judge by your husband," he went on irrelevantly, almost
incoherently; "I don't understand him; he tells me you adore each
other. Why does he tell me that? What business is it of mine?
When I say that to you, you look strange. But you always look
strange. Yes, you've something to hide. It's none of my business
--very true. But I love you," said Caspar Goodwood.

As he said, she looked strange. She turned her eyes to the door
by which they had entered and raised her fan as if in warning.

"You've behaved so well; don't spoil it," she uttered softly.

"No one hears me. It's wonderful what you tried to put me off
with. I love you as I've never loved you."

"I know it. I knew it as soon as you consented to go."