“No, I didn't mean it to sound like that. But I know that with your appreciation of what sacrifice means you will be very unhappy if you toss me away and then find out certain things.”
“This is not the time for riddles, Richard. What do you mean?”
“I have said all I can say.”
“I do not love you well enough to be your wife. I have not meant to play the coquette. I have not known myself. You and my mother—Oh, why rehearse? You know the story. You have understood that my love for you was not what you should have. We may as well end it here and now, Richard. I will forget last night. I will forget all the rest—for it is ended!”
“It cannot be ended,” he retorted. “Understand! It cannot be ended. I am trying to hold myself together, Kate. Don't provoke me. I call on you to keep your promise. No other man shall have you.” He leaned close. “Do you love any other man?”
She looked up at him and spoke slowly and gravely. “I do not think I do, Richard.”
He scowled at her. “You don't think you do! What in the name of Judas do you mean by a remark like that?”
“It's because I'm trying to tell the truth,” she returned, with simple earnestness.
“This is a sort of new mood you're in?” he persisted.
“Yes.”