"But I am yours, Jerry, yours, do you understand? And if I like you to kiss me—"
"I mustn't, Marcia, not here."
He was very much disturbed. "Marcia!" he said in a suppressed tone as he came quickly to her again. "Was that what you meant—was that why you asked me if I'd kissed Una?"
"I merely wanted—"
"I didn't," he broke in impetuously. "No, no, I didn't. Why, Marcia, it wouldn't have been possible—we were merely friends. Don't think I've ever kissed Una, and don't ever believe she would let me. She wouldn't. She's not in love with me. She wouldn't let me, if I wanted to."
"And you don't want to?"
"No, no. I never think about her in that way. I can't. She's different from you. You allure me. It's subtle. I can't explain. I want to take you in my arms and yet I don't dare, for fear that I may crush you. I might, Marcia. I'm afraid. Just now, the thought of my strength frightened me. Don't let me kiss you like that again, Marcia."
"I'm not afraid," I heard her whisper. "Kiss me again, Jerry."
But he didn't. Apparently he still stood before her at a distance, fearsome of he knew not what.
"Jerry!" she murmured again, in a little tone of petulance.