THE WINGS OF THE DOVE
Kate wondered. "Didn't he tell you?"
"I didn't ask him. I met him again, but we practically didn't speak of her."
Kate stared. "Then how do you know?"
"I see. I feel. I was with him again as I had been before———"
"Oh, and you pleased him too? That was it?"
"He understood," said Densher.
"But understood what?"
He waited a moment. "That I had meant awfully well."
"Ah, and made her understand? I see," she went on as he said nothing. "But how did he convince her?"
Densher put down his cup and turned away. "You must ask Sir Luke."
He stood looking at the fire, and there was a time without sound. "The great thing," Kate then resumed, "is that's she's satisfied. Which," she continued, looking across at him, "is what I've worked for."
"Satisfied to die in the flower of her youth?"
"Well, at peace with you."
"Oh, 'peace'!" he murmured with his eyes on the fire.
"The peace of having loved."
He raised his eyes to her. "Is that peace?"
"Of having been loved," she went on. "That is. Of having," she wound up, "realised her passion.
360
