"Of course, Helena, my great desire is for your happiness; but in my position I—I am not as free as I once was to follow my own inclinations. And if—"
"Oh, my God!" she said violently.
She fled out of the room with flying feet. As he followed her up the stairs he heard her door slam viciously and the bolt slip. He came down, his face flushed and angry. He stood a long while with his back to the fire, staring at the lamp or the darkness of the uncurtained window. By and by he shook his head and set his jaw in sullen determination; then he went up-stairs and knocked softly at her door. There was no answer. Again, a little louder; silence.
"Nelly," he said; "Nelly, let me speak to you—just a minute?"
Silence.
"Nelly!"
Silence.
"Damn!" said Lloyd Pryor, and went stealthily back to the parlor where the fire was out and the lamp flickering into smoky darkness.
A quarter of an hour later he went up-stairs again.
"How could you say it!" "I didn't mean it, Nelly; it was only a joke." "A joke! Oh, a cruel joke, a cruel joke!" "You know I didn't mean it. Nelly dearest, I didn't mean it!" "You do love me?" "I love you…. Kiss me…."