“There was a woman,” he said—“She happened to be my wife. Also there was my closest friend: and myself. The comedy was cast. Afterward she died—abroad. I believe he was there at the time—Kept up a semblance—But he never married her.... And I do not intend to marry—you.”
After a moment: “And that,” she whispered, “is why you once said to me that I should have let you alone.”
“Did I say that to you?”
“Yes.” She looked up at him, straight into his eyes: “But if you care for me—I do not regret that I did not let you alone.”
“I shall not marry you.”
Her lip trembled but she smiled.
“That is nothing new to me,” she said. “Only one man has offered that.”
“Why didn’t you take him?” he asked, with an ugly laugh.
“I couldn’t. I cared for you.”
“And now,” he said, “are you afraid of me?”