"I—I couldn't have stood it, Kitty."
"I am not going to marry him."
"You haven't said yet that you don't care for me?"
"No. I haven't."
He turned and stooped over her, compelling her to look at him.
"Say it then," he said.
She drew back her face from his and put up her hands between them. He rose and stood before her and looked down at her. The blue of her eyes had narrowed, the pupils stared at him, black and feverish. Her mouth, which had been tight-shut, was open slightly. A thin flush blurred its edges. Her breath came through, short and sharp.
"You're ill," he said. "You must go back to bed."
"No," she said. "I've got to tell you something."
"If you do I shan't believe it."