'Oh, but——' he began.
She thought wildly: 'This man, with his reason and his judgment, has not the slightest notion how I feel, not the slightest!'
'I must write,' he said in a persuasive tone.
'No!' she cried passionately and vehemently. 'You aren't to write, and you aren't to see me. You must promise, absolutely.'
'For how long?' he asked.
She shook her head. 'I don't know, I can't tell.'
'But isn't that rather——'
'Will you promise?' she cried once more, quite loudly and almost fiercely. And her accents were so full of entreaty, of command, and of despair, that Arthur feared a nervous crisis for her.
'If you wish it,' he said, forced to yield.
And even then she could not be content.