"I don't know—maybe in Chicago—maybe in New York."
"No matter where it is, I will come to you. I cannot lose you out of my life—I will not!"
"No, you mustn't do that. It ain't square to Mart—I can't see you any more—now."
He seized upon the significance of that little final word. "What do you mean by now? Do you mean because Mart is worse? Or do you mean that I have forfeited your good-will by my own action?" He came closer to her and his voice was low and insistent as he continued: "Or do you mean—something very sweet and comforting to me? Do you love me, Bertie? Do you? Is that your meaning?"
She struggled against him as she answered: "I don't know—Yes, I do know—it ain't right for me—for you to say these things to me while I am Mart Haney's wife."
He caught at her hands and looked upon her with face grown older and graver as he bitterly wailed: "Why couldn't we have met before you went to him? You must not go with him now, for you are mine at heart, you belong to me."
She rose with instinctive desire to flee, but he held her hands in both of his and hurried on: "You do love me! I am sure of it! Why try to conceal it? You would marry me if you were free?" His eyes pierced her as he proceeded, transformed by the power of his own plea. "We belong to each other—don't you know we do? I am sorry for Alice, but I do not love her—I never loved her as I love you. She understands this. That is why she has returned my ring—there is nothing further for me to say to her. As for Marshall Haney I pity him, as you do, but he has no right to claim you."
"He don't claim me. He wants me to stay here."
"Then why don't you?"
"Because he needs me."