She rose to leave him, sick at heart.
Then he seemed to realize that she was going; that she meant it.
"Surely, surely!" he cried, "you won't throw me over now! Oh, Vivian! I told you I had been wild—that I wasn't fit to touch your little slippers! And I wasn't going to ask you to marry me till I felt sure this was all done with. All the rest of my life was yours, darling—is yours. You have made me over—surely you won't leave me now!"
"I must," she said.
He looked at her despairingly. If he lost her he lost not only a woman, but the hope of a life. Things he had never thought about before had now grown dear to him; a home, a family, an honorable place in the world, long years of quiet happiness.
"I can't lose you!" he said. "I can't!"
She did not answer, only sat there with a white set face and her hands tight clenched in her lap.
"Where'd you get this idea anyhow?" he burst out again. "I believe it's that woman doctor! What does she know!"
"Look here, Morton," said Vivian firmly. "It is not a question of who told me. The important thing is that it's—true! And I cannot marry you."