"My dear...." she said, her own voice shaken. "My dear boy.... Please...."
She felt her words very stupid—inane.
"Come...." she said, pulling at the strong wrist to make him regain his feet. He yielded to her touch and rose, standing tall and quivering before her.
"Won't you even let me worship you?" he asked in a smothered voice.
"My dear, no ... be reasonable...."
It seemed to Sophy that she had never been at the mercy of such banalities as her mind now offered.
He stared, his lip curling.
"Reasonable!"
"I mean...." Fitting words would not come to her. "You forget...." she said confusedly.
"What ... what do I forget?"