"What if I do meet her? I sincerely hope I shan't; but what if I do?"
Her mouth trembled; her eyes filled with tears. He sprang up and leaned over her, resting his arms on the back of her chair, bringing his face close to hers and smiling into her eyes.
"No—no—no!" She drew back her head and shrank away from him. He put out his hand and turned her face to him, gazing into her eyes, as if for the first time he saw and could fathom the sorrow and the fear in them.
"What if I do?" he repeated.
She tried to push his hand from her, but she could not.
"You stupid child," he said, "do you mean to say that you're still afraid of that?"
"It's you who have made me—"
"My sweetheart—"
"No, no. Don't touch me."
"What do you mean?" he asked gravely, still leaning over and looking down at her.