Could this be love? “Oh, impossible!” she cried, almost angrily.
“Why impossible?” he asked, persistently fighting for an answer.
“I told you at Thornbury—”
“But now—now—” He pressed her impetuously.
“I can’t! You mustn’t ask me.”
“I must, I must!” Something was creeping into his voice which she had never heard there before, something at which her heart fluttered, her voice failed.
“You forget what has passed.”
“Passed! What is that to me? Claudia!”
“I must live my own life—I should shock your mother—your belongings.”
He caught her hands in his, and his honest eyes looked into hers, heedless of passers-by.