Chilled, the lawyer drew back instinctively. There was no mistaking that indifferent, matter-of-fact tone. Bitterly he said:
"Yes, I understand. I have always felt that. I have inspired you with feelings of kindliness, gratitude, friendship. But love? No. That you reserve for some more fortunate man."
"Don't say that, Mr. Ricaby," she replied gently. "There is no other man, I assure you. I would not hurt your feelings for the world, but you know we can't always control these things ourselves. I admire you immensely—I respect you more than any man I know."
Eagerly he darted forward and took her hand.
"Do you give me hope?" he murmured.
She turned away her head as she answered:
"Don't let us speak of this now. You can understand that in this present moment of great anxiety I hardly know what I am doing or saying. I can never forget what I owe you. Any woman should be proud to be your wife."
The lawyer shook his head.
"A woman who really loves does not stop to reason. You might be willing to repay what I've done for you by making me happy, but that is not what I ask. What I have done for you is nothing. It is not such a debt that you should sacrifice your whole life in repaying it. If there can be no other consideration than that, I prefer that our relations should remain as they are." Suddenly turning on her, he demanded:
"Are you sure there is no other?"