“Yet you know how to suffer,” she interposed impetuously.
“Yes; perhaps if you knew what it costs me to say to you, ‘Vivienne, love me and be my wife,’ you would not be so hard on me.”
“That is it,” she replied with a despairing gesture. “You fancy that I admire you. You wish to have me all to yourself; you are a man to be respected by women but not adored, and you are consumed with pride to find one who does adore you; I understand you.”
“Partly only,” he replied. “Vivienne, come here.”
“I will not.”
“I foresee a stormy courtship,” he said in an undertone. Then anxious to try his power over her he added aloud, “Vivienne, please come here.”
“I will not,” she said again, but in her goings to and fro her feet seemed to carry her nearer him in spite of herself.
“Come,” he said, holding out his hands.
“I will not,” she said a third time, but the words were feeble and her outstretched finger tips rested on his hands.
“Sit there now, unreasoning child,” he said, drawing her to his knee, “and let us talk this matter over. I have something to tell you that will greatly astonish you.”