"Yes—but please—"
Again he released her and she stepped back, retreating before him, until the lounge offered itself as refuge. But it was no refuge; she found herself, presently, drawn close to his shoulder; her flushed cheek rested there once more, and her lowered eyes were fixed on his strong, firm hand which had imprisoned both of hers.
"If you can stand it I can," he said in a low voice.
"What?"
"Marrying me."
"Oh, Clive! They'd tear us to pieces! You couldn't stand it. Neither could I."
"But if we—"
"Oh, no, no, no!" she protested, "it would utterly ruin you! There was one woman there to-night—very handsome—I knew she was your mother. And I saw the way she looked at me.... It's no use, Clive. Those people are different. They'd never forgive you, and it would ruin you or you'd have to go back to them."
"But if we were once married, there are friends of mine who—"