"I wanted you," Hugh said.
She was silent.
He bent slowly towards her, looking into her eyes. "My dear, didn't you really know—didn't you understand?"
She shook her head; her eyes were suddenly full of tears. "No, Hugh."
He held out his hand again and took hers. "Don't cry, Doris! You haven't lost much. I shall get over it somehow. I know you never cared for me."
She bent her head with some murmured words he could not catch.
He leaned nearer. "What, dear, what? You never did, did you?"
He waited for her answer, and at last through tears it came. "I've been struggling so hard, so hard, to keep myself from caring."
He was silent a moment, and again it was as if he were collecting his strength for that which had to be endured. Then slowly: "You thought I wasn't in earnest?" he said. "You thought I didn't care enough?"