"How can I take it—now, in this way?"
(Her tears stopped falling suddenly.)
"I admit that I made a gross appeal to your pity."
"My pity?"
"Yes, your pity." His words were curt and hard because of the terrible restraint he had to put upon himself. "I did it because it was the best argument. Otherwise it would have been abominable of me to have said those things."
"I wasn't thinking of anything you said, only of what you've done."
"I haven't done much. But tell me the truth. Whether would you rather I had done it for your sake or for mere honour's sake?"
"I would rather you had done it for honour's sake." She said it out bravely, though she knew that it was the profounder confession of her feeling. He, however, was unable to take it that way.
"I thought so," he said. "Well, that is why I did it."
"I see. I wanted to know the truth; and now I know it."