“Is—do you mean a declaration—again? You are compromising yourself, you know. I warn you that you are committing yourself.”
“So are you. Look at me!”
In his arms, her own arms pressed against his breast, resisting, she raised her splendid youthful eyes; and through and through her shot pulse on pulse, until every nerve seemed aquiver.
“While I'm still sane,” he said with a dry catch in his throat, “before I tell you that I love you, look at me.”
“I will, if you wish,” she said with a trembling smile, “but it is useless—”
“That is what I shall find out in time.... You must meet my eyes. That is well; that is frank and sweet—”
“And useless—truly it is.... Please don't tell me—anything.”
“You will not listen?”
“There is no chance for you—if you mean love. I—I tell you in time, you see.... I am utterly frivolous—quite selfish and mercenary.”
“I take my chance!”