"Why, no, I hope not."
"You hope not—then there is hope for me? Confound it, Rose, I'm not going to talk in riddles. You're the only girl in the world for me." He took her hand. "And I can't live without you. You are going to live with me, aren't you, Rose?"
She shook her head, but tears dropped upon his hand. He allured her like the sunshine, this lithe young lover.
His keen eyes saw a lack of decision in this head shake. He held her hand and his fingers caressed her wrist. Unconsciously, with pure intent, he used all the wiles of men, which women love, yet dread. His voice grew vibrant, yet remained low, his clear eyes called in subtler speech than his tongue. His wrist touched her knee, his hair moved in the soft wind.
"I can't bear to go home without you, Rose, darling. Come, tell me, don't you care for me at all, not the least bit?"
She tried to draw her hand away, but he held it and continued:
"I've got everything all planned. I'm going into law with my father. I've got plans for a house, and we'll begin life together today——"
His physical charm united itself some way with the smell of clover, the movement of the wind and the warm flood of sunshine. She had never loved him, though she had always liked him, but now something sweet and powerful, something deep buried, rose in her heart and shortened her breath. Her face burned, her throat was swollen shut, her face was distorted, for one moment she was mastered.
Then the swift revulsion came, and she drew her hand away and sprang up.
"No!" she cried harshly and bitterly, "I can't do it; it is impossible. Go away!"