"I can't help it; I am old, old, sometimes, and tired of an isolation no one can break for me."
"If you loved me—"
"How can I? You know I cannot!"
"Are you afraid to love me?"
She blushed crimson, saying: "If I—if such a misfortune—"
"Such a misfortune as your loving me?"
"Yes; if it came, I would never, never admit it! Why do you say these things to me? Won't you understand? I've tried so hard—so hard to warn you!" The colour flamed in her cheeks; a sort of sweet anger possessed her.
"Must I tell you more than I have told before you can comprehend the utter impossibility of any—love—between us?"
His hand fell over hers and held it crushed.
"Tell me no more," he said, "until you can tell me that you dare to love!"