“Do not what, Vivienne?”
“Do not do that,” she exclaimed pushing his face away. “How can you touch me—I the daughter of a forger and a thief?”
“Vivienne, do you love me?” he asked gently.
“You insult me deeply—deeply,” she said. “Do I love you? Is that a question for a man to ask a woman? I wish that you would leave me. I am not in a condition to talk to you.”
“I love you, then—is that better?” he asked indulgently.
“You do not!” she exclaimed wildly. “Do not perjure yourself. If you kiss me again I shall send you from the room.”
“Do you love me?” he repeated with persistence.
She sprang away from him and resumed her excited pacing to and fro.
“Do I love you? Yes—no—what does it matter? Suppose I do love a man who prizes me simply as he does his other goods and chattels. I could not be more miserable than I am now. I, who have been so proud of my unblemished name. I wish—I wish that I could die,” and she buried her face in her hands.
“I could not lash myself into such a passion as you are in if I lost everything in the world,” said Armour.