"Then I am to understand that you positively can never love me?"
"I have not said so: but you press me unfairly, Mr. Bertram."
"Unfairly. No, by heavens! no pressure in such case can be unfair. I would press the truth out from you—the real truth; the truth that so vitally concerns myself. You will not say that you have an aversion to me?"
"Aversion! No, certainly not."
"Or that you cannot love me? Then why not let us remain together? You argue that you do not yet know me well enough; will not that be the way to know me better?"
"If I were to travel with you now, Mr. Bertram, it would be tantamount to accepting you. Your own sense will certainly tell you that. Were I to do so, I should give you the privilege of coming with me as my lover. Forgive me for saying that I cannot give you that privilege. I grieve to hurt your feelings for a day even; but I am sure you will ultimately approve of what I am doing."
"And are we to meet no more, then?"
"Of course we shall meet again; at least, in all human probability. My guardian is your uncle."
"I never even knew that till I met you the other day."
"Because you have always been at school or at college; but you know it now. I, at least, shall look forward to meeting you—and so will my aunt."