She gave a small, wistful smile. ‘I suppose it’s a punishment for both of us. Most of these terrible things are. I’ve been too forward and you’ve been too reckless, and the Lord has seen fit to separate us. But I want you to know that I’ll wait for you, Collis. However long it takes you to get over this scandal, I’ll wait.’

He didn’t say anything for a long, breathless minute. Then he told her, ‘You mustn’t. You hardly know me. And I could be away for years.’

She raised her head. Her eyes were misted with tears. ‘If years is what it takes, then years it is.’

‘But you hardly know me. And I hardly know you.’

Delphine shook her head. ‘Don’t deceive yourself, Collis. You knew me well the first time you met me. Just as I knew you. We’re two people of the same kind. We’re the sort of lovers who can’t help but fall in love, because it was ordained by fate, and by whatever it is that makes people what they are. We come alive when we’re together, like flour and sugar when you mix them with water. It’s yeast, bubbling, living yeast.’

‘Delphine …’

She raised the tips of her fingers to his lips. ‘I know what you’re going to say, but don’t say it. Don’t protest. I love you, Collis, I love you very dearly, and no argument will ever make me change my mind. I’m going to wait for you as long as I can, and even if you say you don’t love me, I won’t mind, because I know that you’re only trying to be kind, and spare me my sadness. I love you, and you love me, and nothing on earth, not money nor politics nor years of separation, will ever alter that.’

Collis felt a crushing misery that almost made it impossible for him to breathe. He leaned forward and kissed Delphine on the forehead, then on her lips, and the tears slid from her eyes and mingled with their kiss. She stroked his cheek, so gently and lovingly, and when he sat back and looked at her, he couldn’t speak for the lump in his throat.

‘You don’t have to say anything,’ she whispered. ‘I know how you feel.’

‘Do you?’ he asked her. ‘Do you know what it’s like to have to leave you? It’s the most terrible agony I’ve ever had to face.’

‘You’ll come back.’

He took out his handkerchief and wiped his eyes. ‘Yes, I suppose I will. Though God knows how I’m ever going to raise enough money to get myself together again. I’ve been so used to collecting my allowance, and spending it, and going back for more when I’ve run out.’

‘Your father made himself a fortune,’ said Delphine. ‘So can you.’