Leighton drew close to her.
“Zelda,” he said, “Zelda!”
“No. Oh, no! You must not!” she cried.
“I love you, Zelda!” he said.
“No; you must not say it!” And there was a sob that caught her throat.
“You are the dream. It is too sweet; I can not lose it,—I must not.”
Olive and Pollock called to them ironically.
“Answer them, please,” she said, and Leighton spoke to them.
Zelda put her hand to her throat with a quick gesture, then dropped it.
“You have talked of dreams and love,” she said hurriedly, but with a lingering note of contempt on the last word that stung him as though she had struck him in the face.