"No, no, do not ask me!" He turned from her as though he had finally made up his mind. "Of all men, I should be the last to hurt you. And there is no certainty, perhaps not even a probability, that you should ever know it if I do not tell you."
"Ah, but there is!" she cried, insisting. "You have said so. You told me that a moment ago. No—you must tell me. I will not let you go until you do. I will not leave anything unsaid that I can say—that a woman can say—"
"No, no!"
"Harry, I must know. I will know." She laid her hand upon his arm.
"For heaven's sake!" exclaimed Brett in the utmost distress.
"Harry! You loved me once—" Her voice vibrated audibly.
"Once!" Brett started violently, and turned if possible, paler.
"You made me think so."
"Marion, Marion, don't!"
"I will. Do you remember, Harry, long, long ago when we were almost boy and girl, how you promised, faithfully, sacredly, that if ever I needed you, that if ever I asked your help—"