"I did look at her—and see," she said through her teeth.
He stopped her by main force.
"You've got to listen! Do you hear? It was I who put her in this false position. I who must get her out of it. I owe her that and you owe it to me."
He released her and went on more quietly. "I'm no Galahad and I make
no pretences to virtue, but I'm no rake or despoiler of women either.
I dare you to doubt it. You didn't doubt it—there—in the studio.
You can't doubt it now. Women of your sort—and hers—are inviolable."
Her lids flickered and fell.
"A girl—Olga, a mere child. Think! What is this love of yours that feeds on hatred—on uncleanness Love is made of gentler stuff-beautifies, uplifts—not destroys."
Her head was bent and her face was hidden under her wide hat, but her whisper came to him quite clearly.
"You—tell me—what love is? You!"
When she raised her head her lips were smiling softly, and she moved forward slowly, he at her side. They had reached the Avenue. A motor he had not observed stood near.
"We part here I think. It's adieu, John."