"You'll kiss me—"
"Never!"
"You shall—"
"Never!"
He raised her face to his. She quivered under his touch, but her lips were insensate, and upon his hand a drop of moisture fell—a tear limpid, pure from the hidden springs of the spirit. He kissed its piteous course upon her cheek.
"Olga!" he whispered softly. "What have I done?"
"Killed something in me—I think—something gentle and noble that was trying so hard to live—"
"Forgive me," he stammered. "I didn't know you cared so much."
She started in his arms, then slowly released herself, and drew away while with an anxious gaze he followed her.
"Our friendship—I cared for that more than anything else in the world," she said simply.