"You care for money, position, ease, security, tranquillity—more than for love; do you?"
"Yes."
"Is that true?"
"Yes. Because, unless you mean friendship, I care nothing for love."
"That is your answer."
"It is."
"Then there is something lacking in you."
"Perhaps. I have never loved in the manner you mean. I do not wish to. Perhaps I am incapable of it.... I hope I am; I believe—I believe—" But she fell silent, standing with eyes lowered and the warm blood once more stinging her cheeks.
Presently she looked up, calm, level-eyed:
"I think you had better ask my forgiveness before you go."