"But you say he's kind."
"Oh yes. It isn't that. He's more than kind. He'd smother me with things I'd like to have. It's—it's when he comes near me—when he touches me—and—and his eye!"
I knew enough of physical repulsion to be able to change my line of appeal. "But do you think you'd gain anything if you made him unhappy—now?"
She looked at me wonderingly.
"I shouldn't think you'd plead for him."
I had ventured so far that I could go a little farther.
"I don't think I'm pleading for him so much as for you."
"Why do you plead for me? Do you think I should be—sorry?"
"If you did what I imagine you're contemplating—yes."
She surprised me by admitting my implication.