"Kindness!" He swept her stormily to himself. "Kindness, Jean! Can't you see why I wanted you to share it with me? Can't you see that I want you to share everything? I love you, Jean."
For a long moment she yielded; the next she had slipped from him and the escritoire was between them.
"Don't," she forbade. "You must not say these things to me."
"Must not?"
"I can't marry you."
"Can't! Yet a moment ago—"
"I can't marry you," she repeated breathlessly.
"But your kiss—"
"Was a lie—pity—what you like. I was unstrung. I—I don't love you."
He searched her face for a perplexed instant.