He frowned impatiently.
"No, I don't. I don't want to."
"You'd rather think I didn't care for you?"
His face set again in its tortured, dumb look.
"You shan't think that of me."
She leaned back again out of his sight, and he presented to her his shoulder, thrust forward, and his profile, immovable, dogged, and apparently unheeding.
"It's because I cared for you that I couldn't tell you the truth. I tried and couldn't. It was so difficult, and you wouldn't understand. Then Wilfrid Marston said I must—I had to tell you."
He threw himself back and turned on her.
"What had Marston to do with it?"
Her voice and her eyes dropped.