"Yes, yes, you will hate me," she said breathlessly, "and you should. Oh, I'm not excusing myself. I hate myself. I despise myself. If you hated me you would only be right. Yes, you have every right."
"Are you engaged to any one else, Doris?" he said with a smile.
She sprang up indignantly.
"Oh, how could you say such a thing! Bojo!"
"If I have offended you I beg your pardon."
"You beg my pardon," she said, her lip trembling. She came and knelt at his side. "Bojo, look at me. You believe that I love you, don't you?—that you are the only thing, the only person in my life that I have ever loved, and that if I give you up it is because I must, because I can't help it, because—because I know myself so well that I know I haven't the strength to do what other women do—to be—poor! There you have it!"
"But you knew all this six months ago," he said, scenting some mystery. "Something else must have happened—what?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
He waited a moment.