"Take me away. Do I ask so much? I pleased you once."
"Lavinia," again he used her name naturally, "if you ask me this, if you so appeal to me, if you tell me I am bound to you, I will."
His tongue failed him, he put his hand over his distracted eyes; a burst of genuine feeling, passion maybe, brought her swiftly to his side.
"Say you care for me, Marius. I could have been happy with you, or having never met you been happy; but you do not tell me," she touched his sleeve, "that you are even sorry."
He turned his face from her.
"What my life has been!" she whispered, drawing closer. "Marius, you cannot think of those trees in the Luxembourg and not say you are sorry."
A groan broke from him.
"Rose is a villain!"
"Take me away," she repeated intensely.
She put her hot palm over his hand that rested on the spinet. Neither spoke nor looked at each other; both gazed at the blue night showing through the uncovered window, and the spray of creeper quivering in the rain.