"No, that's why I can't forgive!... I did love him, and he deceived me, insulted my love—I will never forgive him!"
"It's pride that speaks—not love."
"You know nothing about it! You can't know!"
"I do know, Mary."
Hilary turned and faced her.
"How can you say that? You know that I loved you for many years, that I loved you as any man loves a woman, that I wanted you for my own ... I can tell you now, because it has passed. It has changed. But I suffered what one can suffer from that feeling—and from jealousy. Yes, I do know.... And I know too that you have never loved any one."
"You are mistaken."
Her tone was proud and angry. But then all of a sudden she softened. She looked up at him and said with simplicity:
"I love you, Hilary. You are the best person I've ever known. You're like my brother ... only you're far, far above me. I always used to feel that way about you, and now I feel it more than ever. And I love you for it.... But there's another kind of love ... when you're bound to a person, and they hurt you, you can't love them just the same and forgive them—you can't, Hilary! Because your faith has been destroyed, and what bound you to the person is broken, and it can never be the same.... Even if I haven't always been perfect, I didn't break my faith, but he has broken it, and it's gone—gone forever!"