Stara looked up at him, the grey eyes tear-dimmed and hair tumbled.
"It—it's not possible, Hector; I couldn't trust you or—or ... myself."
"I'm strong enough for both, Stara."
Stara stared into his eyes, searching for that she wished to find, and wishing, as always, found.
"I want to trust you, Hector."
"You can. You're sacred to me."
"If I do, will you promise to—to be as you were, before ... you ... knew, you won't make love to me, you—you'll never try to kiss me again, you'll be content with my friendship?"
"More than content, Stara."
"If—if you really mean that, dear, if you won't take advantage of what I've said, I—I ... will trust you, and ... for the last time I will say it again, I love you, Hector. Good-night, dear."
"Good-night, Stara." He turned away, his eyes looking out seawards. A touch on his shoulder roused him, and looking round, he saw Stara once more before him, her face scarlet and eyes shy.