"I won't even let you love me. That's misery too."
"You don't know what it is."
"I do know, and I don't want any more of it. I've been hurt with it."
With a low cry of pity and pain he took her in his arms and held her to him.
She writhed and struggled in his clasp. "Don't," she cried, "don't touch me. Let me alone. I can't bear it."
He turned her face to his to find the truth in her eyes. "And yet," he said, "you love me."
"No, no. It's no use," she reiterated; "it's no use. I won't have it. I won't let you love me."
"You can't stop me."
"I can stop you torturing me!"
She was freed from his arms now. She sat up. Her small face was sullen and defiant in its expression of indomitable will.