"WHAT?" Pierce gazed at her, trying to understand. "Say that over again!"
"You think you've found yourself, but—have you? I know men pretty well and I think I know you. You've changed—yes, tremendously—but what of a year, two years from now? You've barely tasted life and this is your first intoxication."
"Do you love me, or do you not?" he demanded.
"I love you as you are now. I may hate you as you will be to-morrow. I've had my growth; I've been through what you're just beginning—we can't change together."
"Then will you promise to marry me afterward?"
The Countess shook her head. "It's a promise that would hold only me.
Why ask it?"
"You're thinking of no one but yourself," he protested, furiously. "Think of me. I've given you all I have, all that's best and finest in me. I shall never love another woman—"
"Not in quite the way you love me, perhaps, but the peach ripens even after its bloom has been rubbed off. You HAVE given me what is best and finest, your first love, and I shall cherish it."
"Will you marry me?" he cried, hoarsely. She made a silent refusal.
"Then I can put but one interpretation upon your actions."