“Why not?”
“I don’t care for you in that way. I’ve never thought of you like that.”
“I see. Is that the only reason?”
I had to be honest. I owed it him.
“No,” I said, “it is not. You see—I—care for some one else.”
“I see,” he said again. “And was that true at the beginning—when I first saw you—on the Kilmorden?”
“No,” I whispered. “It was—since then.”
“I see,” he said for the third time, but this time there was a purposeful ring in his voice that made me turn and look at him. His face was grimmer than I had ever seen it.
“What—what do you mean?” I faltered.
He looked at me, inscrutable, dominating.