Zuleika Dobson; Or, An Oxford Love Story

Zuleika gazed at them. “I see,” she said; then, looking up, “When did they become like that?” “It was when you left the dining-room that I saw the change in them.” “How strange! It was when I went into the drawing-room that I noticed mine. I was looking in the glass, and”--She started. “Then you were in love with me last night?” “I began to be in love with you from the moment I saw you.” “Then how could you have behaved as you did?” “Because I was a pedant. I tried to ignore you, as pedants always do try to ignore any fact they cannot fit into their pet system. The basis of my pet system was celibacy. I don’t mean the mere state of being a bachelor. I mean celibacy of the soul--egoism, in fact. You have converted me from that. I am now a confirmed tuist.” “How dared you insult me?” she cried, with a stamp of her foot. “How dared you make a fool of me before those people? Oh, it is too infamous!” “I have already asked you to forgive me for that. You said there was nothing to forgive.” “I didn’t dream that you were in love with me.” “What difference can that make?” “All the difference! All the difference in life!” “Sit down! You bewilder me,” said the Duke. “Explain yourself!” he commanded. “Isn’t that rather much for a man to ask of a woman?” “I don’t know. I have no experience of women. In the abstract, it seems to me that every man has a right to some explanation from the woman who has ruined his life.”