She nodded.
"And it would have been the end also, if you would have suffered it. For that very night I ceased to hate you." A faint flush tinged her pale face. "I would have let you off," she said. "I didn't want to go on. But you would not have it so. You came after me. You wouldn't leave me alone, even though I warned you—I warned you that I wasn't worth your devotion. And so"—again her voice trembled—"you had to have your lesson after all."
"And do you know what it has taught me?"
Again there sounded in his voice that new mastery that had so strangely overwhelmed her.
She shrank a little as it reached her, and turned her face aside. "I can guess," she said.
"And is it good at guessing that you are?"
He drew nearer to her with the words, but he did not offer to touch her.
She stood motionless, her head bent lest he should see, and understand, the piteous quivering of her lips. With immense effort she made reply:
"It has taught you to hate and despise me, as—as I deserve."
"Faith!" he said. "You think that—honestly now?"