"But why? Why then, better than now?"
"Because I care, too," she whispered, so that the words just travelled to his ear.
"Olivia! My—do you know what you've said? Do you mean it?"
"Of course I care. I mean that much. You are different from everybody else."
"Then——"
"There must be no 'then.'"
"But you said you cared. Tell me—I don't understand."
"I can never marry you," said Olivia, looking him once more in the face. And her eyes were dry.
"Why not, if it is true—that you care?"
"Because you are what you are—and I—oh! how can I say it even to you? I am so ashamed. I have been thrown at your head from the very first—no, I have no right to say that. How I hate everything I say! You must understand; I am sure you do. Well, in the beginning I couldn't bear to speak to you, because I knew—what was hoped—and I seemed to see and hear it in every look and word. It hurt me more than I ever can tell you. The same sort of thing had happened before, but I had never minded it then. I suppose all mothers are like that; it's natural enough, when you come to think, and I'm sure I never resented it before. I wouldn't have minded it in your case either; I wouldn't have minded anything if I hadn't——"