"No, no, I can't; don't ask me again, Arne!"
The last words were almost inaudible; it seemed as if she had hidden her head under the bedclothes.
"Eli, now you're not kind to me as I was to you," he said, rising.
"But, Arne, there's a difference ... you don't understand me ... but it was ... I don't know ... another time ... don't be offended with me, Arne! don't go away from me!" She began to weep.
"Eli, what's the matter?" It came over him like sunshine. "Are you ill?" Though he asked, he did not believe she was. She still wept; he felt he must draw nearer or go quite away. "Eli." He listened. "Eli."
"Yes."
She checked her weeping. But he did not know what to say more, and was silent.
"What do you want?" she whispered, half turning towards him.
"It's something—"
His voice trembled, and he stopped.