At length the fierce tensity of his grip relaxed, though his arms still clasped her.
“Tell me,” he commanded triumphantly. “Tell me you love me. I want to hear it!” His voice vibrated and his eyes sought her face hungrily.
She summoned up all her forces to deny him—to deny him in such a manner that he should realise his mistake absolutely and at once. “But I don’t! I don’t love you! If you thought that, you misunderstood me.”
His hands released their hold of her and fell heavily to his sides. “Misunderstood?” he muttered. The glad triumph went suddenly out of his voice. “Misunderstood?” he repeated dully.
“Yes. Misunderstood me altogether.”
“I don’t believe it!”
“But you must believe it,” she insisted. “It’s the truth!”
He stared at her.
“Then what have you meant all these weeks?”
“I’ve not meant anything.”