"You do not understand. I was half mad, I think, at leaving her--and at her unconsciousness. And then--and then, I kissed her."
"Really? That was very naughty, of course; but still more like Paul."
He winced, as if she had struck him. "Don't laugh, Violet, as if it were the old story; it isn't."
His tone struck a chill of fear to her heart, yet she still kept up her amused serenity. "Is it not? Yet she is surely not the first girl you have kissed without a 'by your leave.'"
He was silent, and then to her infinite surprise, as he sate leaning forward looking into the fire, covered his face with his hands as if to shut out an unwelcome sight.
"You don't understand," he said, in a low voice. "She hadn't a reproach--she--I can see the look in her eyes still."
There was another silence, and then Mrs. Vane's voice came with an indescribable chill in it:
"You mean that she loved you, or you think she did."
"I am sure of it. She did not deny it. Violet! she is the first woman, I verily believe, who has loved me truly, and I repaid her by insult."
A dangerous rush of sheer anger came to send tact and prudence to the wind for the time. "You say that! The only woman! Then I say, Paul, that you insult others by your doubts--others who have loved you longer. Paul!" She was very close upon the verge, when she pulled herself up short, and gave a little laugh. "You cannot think her love very deep if you say she will refuse you. But what reason have you to think she will? Because you kissed her? That is absurd, and you know it. I believe you wish her to accept you."