“You stand there and laugh—laugh! I wish to mercy I could. Don’t you know I am going to accept you—I, who don’t know what love means—I, who am, I believe, sexless, don’t you know you’re mad and don’t you think it’s rather degrading to give all you offer me for nothing? After all, it is not absolutely necessary to my salvation that I should make experiments on you.”
She felt a sudden tiredness come on her and nestled back in her cushions.
“I am ready to take you with open eyes, Gwen; you are very honest, dear; you will lose some of that when you have suffered a little,” he added, with a ring of sadness in his voice, as he looked tenderly down on her.
She raised her head quickly. “Suffer! Why should I suffer?”
He watched her for a minute with sombre eyes.
“I don’t know,” he said half-absently, “but you will. Then this is our betrothal, is it, dear?”
She bowed her head.
“Oh, my darling!” he said suddenly.
“Will he often say it?” she thought curiously, “can I stand this?”
“My darling, you have no idea how I shall enjoy giving you lessons in love.”