"Intimacy grows quickly out there," I said. "I knew him as well as it is possible for one man to know another."
"And you admired him," she said. "It was impossible to know him and not to admire him. Was it?"
"He was a remarkable man," I said, unsteadily. Then before the appealing fixity of her gaze, that seemed to watch for more words on my lips, I went on, "It was impossible not to -- "
"Love him," she finished eagerly, silencing me into an appalled dumbness. "How true! how true! But when you think that no one knew him so well as I! I had all his noble confidence. I knew him best."
"You knew him best," I repeated. And perhaps she did.
But with every word spoken the room was growing darker, and only her forehead, smooth and white, remained illumined by the inextinguishable light of belief and love.