"There is nothing to wait for. Don't say such things to me. I—it's difficult enough for me now—to think what to do—You will not speak to me again that way, will you? Because, if you do, I must send you away.... And that will be—hard."
"Once," he said, "you spoke about men—how they come crashing through the barriers of friendship. Am I like that?"
She hesitated, looked at him.
"There were no barriers."
"No barriers!"
"None—to keep you out. I should have seen to it; I should have been prepared; but you came so naturally into my friendship—inside the barriers—that I opened my eyes and found you there—and remembered, too late, alas—"
"Too late?"
"Too late to shut you out. And you frightened me last night; I tried to tell you—for your own sake; I was terrified, and I told you what I have never before told a living soul—that dreadful, hopeless, nightmare thing—to drive you out of my—my regard—and me from yours."
His face whitened a little under its tan, but the flat jaw muscles tightened doggedly.
"I don't understand—yet," he said. "And when you tell me—for you will tell me sooner or later—it will not change me."