She shook her head.
"Tell me, Tilly: why do you refuse?"
She shrugged her shoulders:
"I don't know," she said.
"You love me, surely?"
"I love you, I dote on you, I'm mad on you!... Let us stay here and ... and ... love me a little."
"But, Tilly, I do love you. You know I love you!"
He kissed her, very tenderly; and she accepted his kisses, with her eyes closed, and lay limply, as though tired, in his arms. Suddenly she thrust him away:
"Let me be," she said, rising to her feet.
"Tilly...."