"When men say that word it always brings me to my senses. I remember, then. The good in me comes back. I get my devil into harness once more. Have I sinned again? Have I fallen into the pit afresh? Does this man really and truly mean what he says? No, no, no! Oh, no!"
He did pull her down, and he got his arm around her.
"Why, love! Why, precious!" he murmured soothingly. "Dear, dear girl! Darling Nina!"
"I don't love you!" she cried vehemently. "I never can love you! I do love one man and I can't love any other. It's no use trying."
And then she was out of his grasp, striking him away as roughly as his other betrayer had done.
Carleigh stood paralyzed. In some ways he was little more than a boy. But—if a boyish heart that had swelled with newborn hope was shrunken suddenly by old, wizened despair—there was at any rate one man-thing about him, for presently he turned his back to her and that ghastly moan—the sob of a suffering man—fell on her ear.
At that Nina came down the two mossy steps and looked at him with curious irresolution, her hand pressed against her lips.
There was a long moment. There was another sob. Then, having drawn close to him, she placed her fingers on his arm.
"What can I do?" she whispered. "I'm so sorry."
He sobbed again. "You can love me," he whispered.