“I am so sorry if my love makes you unhappy.” His voice was now penitent, humble, beseeching. “But I can’t help it, Hilda. We don’t will love—love wills us. I understand. I am not blaming you—you can’t help hating me as I can’t help loving you. I am not as dull as you think. I understand—Some girl might love me and I mightn’t care for her—”
Her eyes dilated; a pallor crept over her cheeks.
“Is that girl in Hamburg?” There was naiveté in her tone.
“There is no other girl. No one is in love with me. I was only explaining how nature works. One loves and the beloved loves another—”
“I am sure you have a girl in mind. Who is she?”
“I swear to you there is no one—”
“I am sure from the way you said it there is someone—anyhow, you wouldn’t tell me even if there were—”
“I would tell you the truth—I wouldn’t be ashamed to tell you if someone were in love with me. Oh, a long time ago—I was a youngster then.”
“Is she still in love with you?”
He waved his arms in despair.