She gave no sign.
“He might reject your offered sacrifice,” Wilfred went on grimly. “Marriage with you is what he wants. It would be a fine thing for him. You’d have to insist. . . .” Wilfred’s voice began to shake. “Ah, do not fight yourself until you are worn out! Beware of that fatal moment of weariness, when you are willing to give into anything!”
“Would you take me when I came back?” asked Elaine in an ironical voice without looking at him.
“Like a shot!—if you wanted me. However, I have no illusions about that. . . .”
Elaine laughed shakily, and bestirred herself. “What a lot of nonsense I’m letting you talk!” she said in an insincere voice. “One would think I only had to get on a train with a man to solve all problems! The Lord knows, I’m not squeamish; but after all, society is organized on a certain basis; and I’m not prepared to. . . .”
“Now who’s a coward!” cried Wilfred, facing her down. “You have accused me of it often enough—by implication. But at least I will face things . . . even this! . . . What do you want? The sanction and blessing of society on such a thing?”
She shook her lowered head. “Not really,” she said very low. “It’s just that I doubt the efficacy of your remedy. . . .” Then lower still: “I think . . . that you underrate the strength of such a feeling . . . in a woman . . . well, in me!”
“Perhaps I do,” he said with a dreadfully sinking heart. “I am not pure. I never was pure. . . . But, Elaine, not marriage! . . . Oh, not marriage . . . !”
“Come on,” she said. “The waiters are fidgeting. They want to close.”