“Do not tempt me to say what might make both of us more unhappy,” she begged. “Be content to know that I cannot marry you.”
“You have promised somebody else?”
“I shall probably marry,” she said deliberately, “somebody else.”
He ground his heel into the soft sands, and his eyes flashed.
“You are being coerced!” he cried.
She lifted her head proudly.
“There is no person breathing,” she said quietly, “who would dare to attempt such a thing!”
Then he looked out with her towards the sea, and they watched the long, rippling waves break upon the brown sands, the faint and unexpected gleam of wintry sunshine lying upon the bosom of the sea, and the screaming seagulls, whose white wings shone like alabaster against the darker clouds. For him these things were no longer beautiful, nor did he see the sunlight, which with a sudden fitfulness had warmed the air. It was all very cold and grey. It was not possible for him to read the riddle yet—she had not said that she could not care for him. There was that hope!
“There is no one,” he said slowly, “who could coerce you? You will not marry me, but you will probably marry somebody else. Is it, then, that you care for this other man, and not for me?”
She shook her head.