"Not in cold blood."
He took her into his arms; she bent her head gravely, but he felt her restless fingers worrying his sleeve.
"Jacqueline?"
"Yes—Jim."
The swift fire in his face answered the flush in hers; he drew her nearer, but she averted her dainty head in silence and stood so, her hand always restless on his arm.
"You haven't changed toward me in these few weeks, have you, Jacqueline?"
"Do you think I have?"
He was silent. After a moment she glanced up at him with adorable shyness. He kissed her, but her lips were cold and unresponsive, and she bent her head, still picking nervously at the cloth of his sleeve.
"I must go," she said.