"I see you're determined to be horrid about my poor harmless Michael."
"Well, why must he be brought down like this to approve of your book?"
"Oh, he has good taste, and besides he's interested in you and me."
"What did you tell him about us?" Pauline asked sharply.
"Nothing, my dearest, nothing," said Guy, flinging his stick for Bob to chase over the furrows. "At least," he added turning and looking down at her with eyebrows arched in pretended despair of her unreasonableness, "I expect I bored him to death with singing your praises."
Still Pauline could not feel charitable, and still she could not smile at Guy.
"Ah, my rose," he said tenderly. "Why will you droop? Why will you care about people who cannot matter to us? My own Pauline, can't you see that I called in a third person because I dare not trust myself now. All the day long, all the night long you are my care. I'm so dreadfully anxious to justify myself: I long for assurance at every step: once I was self-confident, but I can't be self-confident any longer. Success is no responsibility in itself, but now...."
"It's my responsibility," cried Pauline melting to him. "Oh, forgive me for being jealous. Darling boy, it's just my foolish ignorance that makes me jealous of some one who can give you more than I."
"But no one can!" he vowed. "I only asked Michael's advice because you are too kind a judge. My success is of such desperate importance to us two. What would it have mattered before I met you? Now my failure would ... oh, Pauline, failure is too horrible to think of."
"As if you could fail," she chided gently. "And if you did fail, I would almost be glad, because I would love you all the more."