The pain in his voice pulled at her heart. She stretched out her hands towards him.
"Max! Give me time!"
He wheeled round, and the tense look of misery in his face hurt her almost physically.
"What do you mean?" he asked hoarsely.
"I must have time to think. Husband and wife ought to be one.
What—what happiness can there be if . . . if we marry . . . like this?"
He bent his head.
"None—unless you can have faith. There can be no happiness for us without that."
He took a sudden step towards her.
"Oh, my dear, my dear! I love you so!"
Diana began to cry softly—helpless, pathetic, weeping, like a child's.