She was still staring at him in open repulsion. "And you think I would marry you?" she said breathlessly. "You think I would marry you?"
"I think you will have to," said Hunt-Goring, with his silky laugh. "I love you, you see." He added, after a moment, "I shan't be unkind to you if you behave reasonably. I am well off. I can give you practically anything you want. Of course you will have to give also; but that goes without saying. The point is, how soon can we be married?"
"Never!" she cried vehemently. "Never! Never!"
He looked at her, and again her eyes fell; but she continued, nevertheless, with less of violence but more of force.
"I don't know what you mean by suggesting such a thing. I think you must be quite mad—as I should be if I took you seriously. I am not going to marry you, Major Hunt-Goring. I have never liked you, and I never shall. You force me to speak plainly, and so I am telling you the simple truth."
"Thank you," said Hunt-Goring. "Well, now, let us see if I can persuade you to change your mind."
"You will never do that," she said quickly.
He smiled. "I wonder! Anyhow, let me try! It makes no difference to you that I love you?"
"No," she told him flatly. "None whatever. In fact, I don't believe it."
"I will prove it to you one day," he said. "But let that pass now, since it has no weight with you. I quite realize that I shall not persuade you to marry me for your own sake or for mine. But—I think you may be induced to consider the matter for the sake of—your friend."