Fair. We owe you more than we can ever pay. Won't you come in and rest?
Winth. (comes closer as though to take her hand). You, too, Fair?
Fair. What else? You are our—enemy!
Winth. (his voice choked with passion). No. God knows I wear this uniform because I think it right. But if it make me an enemy to you, I would to God I'd never seen it. You loved me once, Fair. Two years is not so very long—yet have you changed? Ah! no, no. You cannot look at me like that and say you hate me!
[With a sudden, wild impulse, Fair has drawn very near to him.
Fair (draws back with an effort). I must not. You hear me! I must not.
Winth. But if you love me, Fair.
Fair (looks up with a strange, wild, longing look in her face, then quickly covers her eyes with her hand. She is trembling so, she can hardly stand. She raises her face to his: all the passion is none; she is paler than the dead. Her words come slowly, hardly above a whisper). But I—don't love you!
[Winthrop takes a step backward, his face very white and drawn. He slowly loosens the clasp of her hand as—