"It doesn't strike you as important—what a woman might think about such matters, does it?" said she, good-humored in her mockery.
"Oh, yes—if the woman's you. But let's not bother about such things. It seems such a waste of time. One kiss?"
She shook her head. "Not with Richard looking on."
"Do you want me to kiss you—dear?" he said passionately.
With a nervous glance toward the house she rose. "Please!" she said, in vague entreaty. "You must go."
"You haven't told me—anything—yet." He cast hurriedly about for some way to detain her. "There are your plans for being independent."
"I haven't any."
"Do sit down. I'll not touch you again."
"It isn't that, Basil. It's for the same reason that I didn't write and can't. Hasn't what he's done pledged us both to——"
"Don't say any more, Courtney," he interrupted; for he saw how profoundly in earnest she was, and respected her for it. "You're right. I'm going." He took her hand, pressed it. "Dear," he said, "do you know what it was that nearly drove me insane after you sent me away? As soon as I thought about it, I knew no harm would come to you. He's neither a coward nor a beast. But I was afraid you'd—kill yourself."