“So long as I don’t love you it doesn’t matter in the least.”
“But—”
She shook her head. “We sha’n’t talk about my loving you. I’m not going to love you.”
“Do you mean that?”
“Decidedly.”
“You wouldn’t marry me?”
“Of course not.”
“Why?”
“Really, I think you’re out of your mind. Even if I loved you—which I don’t—do you think I’d sit and wait for you to reason out that you had better fall in love with me, and then grab you with wild eagerness—after you make up your mind to chuck another woman whom you have assured me that you do love?”
“But suppose I do love you? Would the fact of my—my affair with Andree prevent you from marrying me?”