“Yes, of course,” lightly.
“I want—I want your friendship. I can’t tell you how much. I didn’t say anything that offended you, did I? I felt pretty seedy. Everything seemed to be slipping away from me.”
“Not now?”
“Oh, no. I’m all right.”
He took the flowers from her arms and laid them at the foot of a tree. Then coming forward he thrust out both his hands suddenly and took her by the elbows.
“Jane!” he cried, “Jane! Look up into my eyes! I want you to see what you’ve written there. Why haven’t you ever seen it? Why wouldn’t you look and read? It’s madness, perhaps; but if it’s madness, then madness is sweet—and all the world is mad with me. There isn’t any world. There’s nothing but you and me—and Arcadia.”
She had turned her gaze to the ground and would not look at him but she struggled faintly in his embrace. The color was gone from her cheeks now and beneath the long lashes that swept her cheek—one great tear trembled and fell.
“No, no—you mustn’t,” she whispered, stifling. “It can’t—it mustn’t be. I don’t——”
But he had seized her more closely in his arms and shackled her lips with his kisses.
“I’m mad—I know—but I want you, Jane. I love you—I love you—I want the woods to hear——”