So posed, he was a wistful, pathetic figure, and Nina's heart softened. "I won't go away," she said; and he looked at her, again pleased.
"You mean—"
"I mean I'll be nice to you for just one week more. If—"
"If—I don't care what the 'if' is, if you'll keep your word."
"If you'll promise to go back to the Veynol girl when the week's over."
"But there's no use," he insisted. "We had very bitter words. She would never consent to see me again. I know she wouldn't."
"I'm not saying she would," Nina argued. "Girls can be very stubborn. I'm a little like that myself. Still, you can try, you know. It's that I'm asking. Will you promise?"
He looked unutterable things at her—passion, love, adoration. "I'd promise to kill myself at the end for a week of your kindness. You can be so divinely adorable, when—you like."
"I don't want you to kill yourself. I want you to have life at his fullest—all that's brightest, and best, and most worthy. I want you to have the happiness to which you're destined."
"I'll have bliss for a week, at all events," he declared, edging closer and reaching for the hand nearest him.