"He must learn to love me," he said, lightly.
She looked at him hopelessly. He could not see; he could not understand. And how could she tell him? Her father's words rang in her brain. He was "crooked." He was "here on some game." He was being watched. But she loved him, she loved him! Oh, how could she make him understand?
She clung tighter to him, trembling. He became serious again. "Dear, you mustn't worry," he said. "It can't be helped. He'll come round. Once we're married—"
"No, no. Oh, can't you understand? I couldn't, I couldn't!"
Jimmy's face whitened. He looked at her anxiously.
"But, dear!" he said. "You can't—do you mean to say—will that—" he searched for a word-"stop you?" he concluded.
"It must," she whispered.
A cold hand clutched at his heart. His world was falling to pieces, crumbling under his eyes.
"But—but you love me," he said, slowly. It was as if he were trying to find the key to a puzzle. "I—don't see."
"You couldn't. You can't. You're a man. You don't know. It's so different for a man! He's brought up all his life with the idea of leaving home. He goes away naturally."