"Needless, wonderful words, but I love you. You were the first woman in
my life. You will be the last. I have been silent, as you know. I have
waited for something like this, and I think the time has come."
"The time can never come," she cried despairingly.
"The time has come at least for me to tell you that I love you more than
any woman on earth," he declared, "that I want to take care of you, to
take you into my life, to build a wall of passionate devotion around you,
to keep you free from every trouble and every harm."
"Ah, dear friend, if it were but possible!" she murmured, holding his
hands tightly.
"But it is possible," he insisted. "All that we need is courage. You owe
nothing to your husband. You can leave him without remorse or a moment's
shame. Your life just now is wasted,--a precious human life. I want you,
Josephine. God knows how I want you!"
"You have my friendship--even my love. There, I have said it!" she
repeated, with a little sob, "my love."
His arms were suddenly around her. She shrank back in her chair. Her
terrified eyes invited and yet reproached him.
"Remember--oh, please remember!" she cried.
"What can I remember except one thing?" he whispered.
She held him away from her.
"You talk as though everything were possible between us. How can that be?
I have no joy in my husband, nor he in me--but I am married.
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