She seated herself. Reluctantly he followed her example. But when she was seated, she found herself at a loss for words. She drew off her gloves, and sat there folding and refolding them. He waited for her to commence; the silence was unbroken, save for the laughter of children playing in the Square and the occasional tapping of footsteps on the pavement. He leant across the table and took her hand. "Terry, after all these years you're not afraid of me? You don't need to be. Remember what you've just said: it's the waiting that's so wearing; the real pain's over in a second. Get the real pain over; then we'll plan for the best."
She looked up gratefully with eyes that were almost clear of trouble. "You're gentle—so different from other men. I could almost love you; I do love you. But not quite in the way—— You understand. I trust you more than any one in the world."
"Then why——?"
"Ah, why?" she echoed. "That's what I wish you could tell me. Why should I be able to offer more
to—to some one else whom I trust less? So much less?"
"But is that love, Terry? Isn't it infatuation? Could you keep on offering? Loving means marrying and marrying means being together without respite."
"I know," she nodded wisely. "I know all that. I know it so well that I don't want to marry him or anybody—at least, not yet."
"Then why——?"
She took his other hand in hers, clinging to it as if she were drowning. "That's the second time you've asked me why. I'll tell you. Because if I don't say 'Yes,' I shall lose him. Even though I may not want him forever, I can't bear to lose him for now. You must know the feeling—you who are in love. And that's why," her voice choked with the tears that she kept back from her eyes, "that's why I promised him last night."
"Last night!" Tabs spoke slowly, trying to bring the finality home to himself.