"Is that the only answer you can give?"
"It is the only answer I will give."
There was something in Gretchen's face which awed me. It was power and resolution, two things man seldom sees in a woman's face.
"Supposing, Gretchen, that I should take you in my arms and kiss you?" I was growing reckless because I felt awed, which seems rather a remarkable statement. "I know you only as a barmaid; why, not?"
She never moved to go away. There was no alarm in her eyes, though they narrowed.
"You would never forgive yourself, would you?"
I thought for a moment. "No, Gretchen, I should never forgive myself. But I know that if I ask you to let me kiss your hand before I go, you will grant so small a favor."
"There," and her hand stretched toward me. "And what will your kiss mean?"
"That I love you, but also respect you, and that I shall go."
"I am sorry."