"Coronado, I wish I were very ugly," murmured Clara, for the moment sincere in so wishing.
"Is there anything you dislike in me? I have been as kind as I knew how to be."
"It is true, Coronado. You have overwhelmed me with your goodness. I could go on my knees to thank you."
"Then—why?"
"Ah! why will you force me to say hard things? Don't you see that it tortures me to refuse you?"
"Then why refuse me? Why torture us both?"
"Better a little pain now than much through life."
"Do you mean to say that you never can—?" He could not finish the question.
"It is so, Coronado. I never could have said it myself. But you have said it. I never shall love you."
Once more the man felt a cutting and sickening wound, as of a bullet penetrating a vital part. Unable for the moment to say another word, he rose and walked the room in silence.