"No," he said, quietly—too quietly by far. She looked up at him, a quick protest framed on her red lips. Something—perhaps the odd glimmer in his eyes—committed her to silence. From silence the stillness grew into tension; and again the rushing sense of unreality surged over them both, leaving their senses swimming.
"There is only one thing in the world I care for now," he said.
"Ye-yes."
"And that is to have you think well of me."
"I—I do."
"—And each day—think better of me."
"I—will—probably——"
"And in the end——"
She neither stirred nor turned her eyes.
"—In the end—Listen to me."