"Why do you not ask me to explain all the—circumstances of my life since I saw you last? Why can't you understand that a girl situated as I am has temptations that at times seem to her irresistible? Need I mortify myself by telling you that I am driven—driven till I feel as if I would do anything to get rest from eternal lectures about what a rich marriage has got to do for me—and for others? Yes, you are right in saying that a man like you never before asked me to marry him. Because I feel that—because—because—Oh! you are cruel not to speak—to help me! How can I put into words that I am willing to give up all—"
It was impossible, facing the rigid coldness of his face, to go on. She sat in wretched silence till they reached shore, and he gave her his chilly hand to help her upon the float. Then the touch of her fingers sent a tremor of relenting into his veins.
"Oh, if I could! If I could! But he too—that other one—believed. Tell me; he does not still believe in you?"
"I hate him," she said, doggedly. She shivered a little, as the quickened breeze of evening struck her thinly-clad form.
Grove, clasping her hand, gazed into her eyes with a desperate resolve to read her heart.
"Let me go—it is no use," she said, turning away from him.
And, with a sigh deep as Fate, he loosened his hold of her—forever.