There was colour enough in her face, now. Breathless, still a little frightened, she looked away from him, plucking nervously, instinctively, at his hands clasping her waist.
"Can't you c-care for me, Athalie?" he stammered.
"Yes ... you know it. But don't touch me, Clive—"
"When I'm—in love—with you—"
She caught her breath sharply.
"—What am I to do?" he repeated between his teeth.
"Nothing! There is nothing to do about it! You know it!... What is there to do?"
He held her closer and she strained away from him, her head still averted.
"Let me go, Clive!" she pleaded.
"Can't you care for me!"