"Of course," she said demurely, "I don't want to forget you. Why should I?"
"Well then, give me something to remember—that we can both remember to the end of our days!"
His arm went round her; his face, his hard, handsome face, was close to hers! he meant to kiss her, meant business this time—because it was the last opportunity? And of a sudden Stella thought of Philip, of how Philip had held her in his arms, had pressed his lips to hers....
"Don't!" she cried desperately, "don't! You can't understand—it's impossible——"
"Why?" he inquired, intrigued. "Is there someone else?"
She let herself go, turned to him in her distress, with an instinct that he would comprehend if he had but an inkling of her plight. "Yes," she said tremulously, "there is, there was, someone else, and it's all so hopeless, and miserable!"
He held out his hand, this time with friendly, almost fatherly intention. "There! Poor child, how was I to know? Forgive me; I dare say I've been a beast, but I meant no real harm. Tell me all about it, eh?"
Sir George felt as much curiosity as interest to hear the little story. Surely she was too young, too inexperienced, to have had any serious love affair; he was prepared to be secretly amused, as well as to show adequate sympathy. Probably it was just some boy and girl romance, and her parents had married her suitably to put an end to it.
"I can't talk about it," said Stella.
"Did it happen before, or after you were married?" he persisted.