"I—care for you."
"This way?"
Over her closed lids a tremor passed, scarcely perceptible.
"Don't you know how—how deeply I—care for you?" he managed to say, feeling prudence and discretion violently tugging at their cables. "Don't you know it, Jacqueline?"
"Yes. I know you—care for me."
"Good God!" he said, trying to choke back the very words he uttered. "Can't you respond—when you know I find you so adorable! When—when you must know that I love you! Isn't there anything in you to respond?"
"I—care for you. If I did not, could I endure—what you do?"
A sort of blind passion seized and possessed him; he kissed again and again the fragrant, unresponsive lips. Presently she lifted her head, loosened his clasp at her waist, stepped clear of the circle of his arms.
"You see," she managed to say calmly, "that I do care for you. So—may I go now?"