She went on crying softly. He sat on the arm of her chair and put his arm round her and dried her eyes.
"Don't be unhappy about it, Kitty. I understand. You're not marrying them, dear; you're marrying me."
She broke loose from him.
"I can't marry you," she cried. "I can't give you what you want."
"Do you mean that you can't care for me? Is that what you're trying to tell me all the time?"
He moved and she cowered back into her chair.
"I—I can't tell you."
He had turned from her. He was leaning his arms along the mantelshelf; he had bowed his head on them.
They remained for some minutes so; she cowering back; he with his face hidden from her.
"Do you mind telling me," he said presently, "if there's anybody else that you——"