"It might have gone on," he qualified, "if I hadn't met Colonel Darling."
"You seem to forget that I had met him already—am married to him."
"Yes," he said; "but with you it's different. You joy in hurting him; whereas I—why, I'd never have a moment's peace if I did anything that would give him pain. I know I shouldn't."
She pretended to be surprised; though, for some reason, she was not in the least.
"You're an odd boy," she drawled. "You mean that if I were to tell you now that I had changed my mind, and was quite ready to go away with you, you'd beg to be excused?"
He didn't answer at once. Candor bulked large in his character. Now that she put it that way he wished to be very sure. It was not a matter to be decided offhand, with Darling absent and Nina there before him, temptingly precious in the magic witchery of the tinted half-light.
"No, I—I couldn't. I couldn't do him that injury," he declared at length.
"And you swore you loved me?"
"I did. I do. I swear it still," he cried with sudden vehemence.
Nina laughed at his protestation.