"You wish me to love you?"
"Yes."
"You would love me—a little—if you could?"
She closed her eyes.
"Would you?" he asked again.
"Yes."
"But you cannot."
She said, dreamily: "I don't know. That is a dreadful answer to make. But I don't know what is in me. I don't know what I am capable of doing. I wish I knew; I wish I could tell you."
"Do you know what I think, Shiela?"
"What?"