"Know what, Shiela?"
"What I am—what I have done. And I've got to tell you." Her mouth quivered suddenly, and she faced him fighting for self-control. "I've got to tell you. Things cannot be left in this way between us. I thought they could, but they can't."
He crossed the corridor, slowly; she straightened up at his approach, white, rigid, breathless.
"What is it that has frightened you?" he said.
"What you—said—to me."
"That I love you?"
"Yes; that."
"Why should it frighten you?"
"Must I tell you?"
"If it will help you."