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"Why, my darling!" he exclaimed distressfully. "Have you been crying?"
Here the discreet Britta retired.
Thelma sprang to her husband and nestled in his arms.
"Philip, do not mind it," she murmured. "I felt a little sad--it is
nothing! But tell me--you _do_ love me? You will never tire of me? You
have always loved me, I am sure?"
He raised her face gently with one hand, and looked at her in surprise.
"Thelma--what strange questions from _you_! Love you? Is not every beat
of my heart for you? Are you not my life, my joy--my everything in this
world?" And he pressed her passionately in his arms and kissed her.
"You have never loved any one else so much?" she whispered, half
abashed.
"Never!" he answered readily. "What makes you ask such a thing?"
She was silent. He looked down at her flushing cheeks and tear-wet
lashes attentively.
"You are fanciful to-day, my pet," he said at last. "You've been tiring
yourself too much. You must rest. You'd better not go to the Brilliant
Theatre to-night--it's only a burlesque, and is sure to be vulgar and
noisy.


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