"You only want me!—Nothing but me!" he repeated, softly—"Dear little
Innocent!—Ah!—But I fear I am just what you cannot have!"
She smiled, not understanding.
"What do you mean?" she asked—"You always play with me! Are you not all mine as I am all yours?"
He was silent. Then he slowly withdrew his arm from her waist.
"Now, child," he said—"listen to me and be good and sensible! You know this cannot go on."
She lifted her eyes trustfully to his face.
"What cannot go on?" she queried, as softly as though the question were a caress.
He moved restlessly.
"Why—this—this love-making, of ours! We mustn't give ourselves over to sentiment—we must be normal and practical. We must look the thing squarely in the face and settle on some course that will be best and wisest for us both—"
She trembled a little. Something cold and terrifying began to creep through her blood.