Her quiet bitterness struck a little fear into Wilfred’s breast. Was there an unsuspected worst in Frances Mary? Oh, well, he was committed now; no choice but to struggle on. “You have one quality that I hold to through all,” he said; “your disinterestedness. The finest quality of all!”
Her smile became still more remote. “Oh, it’s easy to be disinterested about things that don’t touch you too closely,” she said.
This was a facer for Wilfred. He strove not to show it. “I’ll take my chance of your soundness,” he said.
She shook her head. “Passion, preposterous as it is, is the only justification.”
“I could love you—if you gave me a chance,” he said sullenly.
Frances Mary laughed suddenly and merrily.
“I know I’m ridiculous,” he said blushing crimson; “but I mean to see it through. It’s all got to come out, absurdities and all.”
“Why marry at all?” she asked.
“I want you.”
She looked at him.