"It doesn't matter to me, Rupert, what other people would do or would not do. If you persist in this attempt—this mad attempt—I shall not marry you."
He strode to the table, looking down at her averted face and bent head.
"Then we're at a deadlock."
She gave him a quick glance. "No; it isn't a deadlock, because—because there's still a way out."
He leaned above her, supporting himself with his hand on the table. "And it's a way I shall never take so long as you can't say—what you admitted a little while ago that you couldn't say—"
"I can't say it," she murmured, her face still further averted; "but all the same it's cruel of you to make it a condition."
He bent lower till his lips almost touched her hair. "It's cruel of you," he whispered, "to put me in the position where I must."
The room and the hall behind it were now so dim that Davenant had no difficulty in slipping between the portières and getting away.