"Oh. And then?"
"Marry me."
"Oh. And what will old lady Civilization say? I told you somebody would raise the dickens!"
"Who cares?"
"I suppose I wouldn't care if I loved you enough."
"Will you try?"
"Oh, dear." ... She freed herself gracefully, stepped back a stair lower, and leaned on the rail, considering.
"Oh, dear," she repeated under her breath. "What a tangle! ... I don't know why I've let myself—care for you—in your way. I ought to stop it. Could you stand it?" she added naïvely. And the reply in his eyes scared her.
"Oh, this is serious!" she murmured. "We've gotten on much further than I realized.... I remember, when you began to make love to me, I thought it very sweet and boyish of you—to fall in love with your own sister. But I've begun to make love to you, now.... And I ought not to."
"Because you are married?" he asked under his breath.