"Not entirely. I do not know the sex or the name of the person from whom you fled at the corner shop." Gertrude turned swiftly towards the window. "I can answer no question on that point," she said in low tones. "Do you think this person had possession of the eye?" I persisted. "No! no! no! Ask me no more, I have told you all that I can tell you." "I will only ask one question, which--if I am to learn the truth about this case, and save you from arrest--I must have answered. Do you believe that the person in question is guilty?" She turned with a pearly-white face. "No, the person is not guilty. Do you wish me to swear it?" Her question was sarcastic, and I winced. "I believe your bare word," I said somewhat coldly; "have I not proved my belief?" "Forgive me." In her turn she moved towards me, and laid a beseeching hand on my arm. "You are my best friend and indeed my only friend. I have no one but you to trust." "And love?" I asked, trying to catch her hands. "No! no!" she drew away; "not yet." "Yes, now. We must understand one another. I am not content with friendship, Gertrude, I want your love." "But--but it is so sudden!" she stammered. "Sudden. When I have been eating my heart out ever since I set eyes on your portrait? Oh, my dear, you can't believe that." "But--but," she made another objection. "There is so much to talk about." "We can talk all the easier when we understand one another. Surely you can see how devoted I am to you." "I know that; oh yes, I know that; indeed I do." "Then--" I held out my hands. "Mr. Vance?" "Call me by my name." "Indeed I can't--oh no--oh no." "Gertrude!" this time I became masterful and possessed myself of her unwilling hands, "is there anyone else?" "No; certainly there is not." "You don't love Striver." "The idea! I never heard such nonsense." "You are about to hear a good deal of nonsense. When a sensible man such as I am is in love, he talks his heart out." She did not draw away her hands, but laughed softly in spite of her fears and insistent troubles. "What you say can never be nonsense." "Then you love me?" I demanded persistently. "Yes; it's no use my denying it, I do love you." "Gertrude!" I caught her fully in my arms and, before she could turn her head aside, had pressed my lips to her own. She bore the embrace for one moment, then pushed me away, and retreating to the armchair sat down to cry softly. I followed. "Gertrude darling!" "Oh, what is the use of talking? How can we behave in this way, when all things are wrong? I do love you: it is useless to say that I do not. But my heart aches with pain." "Darling," I knelt beside her, "I am here to help you." "I know. I accept your help gladly, and I thank God for having sent a good man to help me." "Dear, don't think of me as good, I have no end of faults." "You would not be human otherwise, and for those faults I love you all the more, Mr.----" "Gertrude?" "Well then, Cyrus."