Claude lurched forward in the bed. "Look here, Thor; if you want to know, it's this. I've tried to leave the girl alone—and I can't. I'm worse than a damn fool; I'm every sort of a hound. I can't marry her, and I can't give her up. When I haven't seen her for a week, I'm frantic; and when I do see her I swear to God I'll never see her again. So now you know."
Claude threw himself back again on the pillows, but Thor went on, quietly: "Why do you swear to God you'll never see her again?"
"Because I'm killing her. That is, I should be killing her if she wasn't the bravest little brick on earth. You don't know her, Thor. You've seen her, and you know she's pretty; but you don't know that she's as plucky as they make 'em—pluckier."
Thor answered, wearily, "I've rather guessed that, which is one of the reasons why I feel you should be true to her."
"I am true to her—truer than I ought to be. If I was less true it would be better for us both. She'd get over it—"
Again Thor was aware of an up-leaping hope. "And you, too?"
"Oh, I suppose so—in time."
"Yes, but you'd suffer."
Claude gave another lurch forward in the bed. "I couldn't suffer worse than I'm suffering now, knowing I'm an infernal cad—and not seeing how to be anything else."
"But you wouldn't be an infernal cad if you married her."