"I know I am unworthy of you," she whispered.
His lungs shook him with a deep and tremulous inspiration. For a little he could not answer.
"That is why you do not love me?" she whispered again.
"I do love you," he said with a strong effort to control himself, "but I am not worthy to touch the hem of your garment."
"Tell me why, Sidney?"
"Some day—I do not know when—I will tell you all. And if you can love me after that, we shall both be happy."
"Tell me now," she urged.
"I cannot," said he, "but if you only trust me, Polly, you shall know. If you will not trust me—"
He paused, looking down at the snow path.
"Good night!" he added presently.