It was no use, he said, to think about Prissie. He couldn’t marry her. He couldn’t marry anybody but Hatty; Hatty must marry him.
“You can’t say you don’t love me, Hatty.”
No. She couldn’t say it; for it wouldn’t be true.
“Well, then——”
“I can’t. I’d be doing wrong, Robin. I feel all the time as if she belonged to you; as if she were married to you.”
“But she isn’t. It isn’t the same thing.”
“To me it is. You can’t undo it. It would be too dishonorable.”
“Not half so dishonorable as marrying her when I don’t love her.”
“Yes. As long as she loves you. She hasn’t anybody but you. She was so happy. So happy. Think of the cruelty of it. Think what we should send her back to.”
“You think of Prissie. You don’t think of me.”