"I know what you and my aunt talked over between you," she said. "You discussed the chances of my developing erratic, unscrupulous, morbid, immoral traits! You were anxious for fear I had inherited them. Probably now you think I have. Think as you please——!" she flashed out through her tears; "you have killed every bit of happiness in me. Remember it some day!"
She turned to go, and he sprang forward to detain her, but she twisted herself out of his arms and reeled back against the desk.
Then he had her in his arms again, and she stared at his white, tense face, all distorted by her blinding tears:
"I love you, Steve! That's all the answer I give you. That's my reply to your folly. I never loved anybody else; I never shall; I never can. I am clean. I don't know how it happens, but I am! They lie who tell you anything else. I'm like my father; I care for only one woman. I'm incapable of caring for any other.
"I don't know what I've done to you to make you say such things and think them. I consider you as my own kin; I respect and love you like a kinsman. But—God help me—I've gone further; I love you as a lover. I can't tear you out of my heart; I've tried because I saw no hope that you ever could fall in love with me—but I couldn't do it—I couldn't.
"If you go to the man you married I shall never love any other woman. That is the truth, and I know it, now!"
Her body was still rigid in his arms; her tense hands lay flat on his breast as though to repulse him.
But there was no strength in them and they had begun to tremble under the hard beating of his heart.
Her mouth, too, was quivering; her tear-wet eyes looked mutely into his; suddenly her body relaxed, yielded; and at his fierce embrace her hot mouth melted against his.
"Steve," he stammered—"Steve—can you care for me—in my way——?"