"I must not! I must not! You must go to her. She saved you. Leave me, Dale, and go back. You must not come again."
He burst out in wrath:
"Now, by God, I will not leave you or let you go! Mine you are, and mine you shall be!" and he seized her by the wrist. She gave a startled cry that recalled him to gentleness.
"Did I frighten you, my beauty? But it is so, and it must be. It is sweet of you to offer—to make much of what she did, and little of yourself. I love you more for it. But we have done with that now. Come to me, Jan."
"I can't! I can't! She would always be between us; I should always see her between us. O Dale, how can you leave her?"
"I have never loved her. I have never promised her," he replied sternly. "It is all a mere delusion. A man's love is not to be turned by folly like this."
She answered nothing, and sank back in her chair again.
"If it's jealousy," he went on, "it is unworthy of you, and an insult to me. And if it's not jealousy, it's mere madness."
"Can't you understand?" she murmured. "How can I take what is hers?"
"I can take what is mine, and I will. You gave yourself to me, and I will not let you go."