"No, no," she cried vigorously, jumping up. "It is not right. It isn't fair to you. We were swept off our feet."
"Thank Heaven, yes."
"But it's impossible, it's crazy—it's senseless. I don't want to marry, I don't want to fall in love. I want to be free—I must be free—I know that—you know that. So what then?"
"What's the use of arguing? It's been settled for us."
"But it isn't settled. I lost my head—you lost your head. We didn't know what we were doing. Marriage is impossible, absurd. I'm not a woman to marry—you would be unhappy—don't you see how ridiculous it is? I think only of myself—my career—"
"What's all that amount to—you love me and I love you. It's always been so—we've been fools and I didn't know it."
"But I don't know it," she cried; but at the same breath she knew that it was so. But this knowledge only roused in her the spirit to combat, to remit, to put away from her the threatening obstacle.
"Nonsense. Why didn't you let me go? You wouldn't; you brought me back; you couldn't help it—and I came. I would have come if you had called me. I've said all that you say myself—what good did it do me? Here I am!"
"Well, then—yes, we may love each other," she said desperately. "I don't know. I cannot reason it out—it may be so, perhaps—but even then? Teddy, it can't go on. Don't you see how wicked it would be—how wrong? Your wife can't be on the stage, and I can't give it up. It's everything—it's been my whole life. We must be strong—we must stop it. It's absurd—it's wrong."
She came to him, seized with the two contrary impulses: an instinctive revolt, a desire to force him from her life, and something just as instinctive and irresistible that drew her back to him; and at the moment she said the most firmly, "No, no, it's absurd, it's wrong," she put out her hand and caught her fingers in his coat collar, just behind his ear, under the masses of his hair.