"I only know you are my friend, my very dear friend," she said.
"No! no! no!" he cried, coming after her.
"Yes—only that friend!"
"Lover! Peggy," he said passionately. "I am a man—devoured by love of you. I have waited for you—longed for you—and now——" With a sudden movement he caught her in his arms, straining her to him wildly, showering kisses upon the shining coronet of her hair. "We're alone, Peggy," he cried, "just you and I!" and his voice rang with triumph. "We're alone! There are no others in the world—no others! You are mine, Peggy, mine at last!"
She struggled in his arms, her face pale as linen, her voice with a note of almost shrill alarm.
"Colling, I can't bear it—you will spoil everything. Do help me, Colling! I don't love you like that. I'm sorry if it hurts you. I'd rather die."
There was a note in her voice of such absolute sincerity, mingled with fear, that he opened his arms and let her flutter away.
The passion upon his face changed and melted into something else.
"My God!" he cried. "You would rather die——"
He stumbled rather than walked towards the sofa and sat down upon it, burying his face in his long lean hands, that trembled exceedingly.