And when he couldn't stand his horrid reflections any longer he said, "Karen?" again. So humbly, so unhappily that the girl opened her blue eyes very wide and listened with all her might.
"Karen," he said, "in a comparatively short time you won't listen to me at all—you won't tolerate me. And before that time is upon us, I—I want to say a—few—words to you ... about how deeply I value our friendship.... And about my very real respect and admiration for you.... You won't let me say it, soon. You won't care to hear it. You will scorn the very mention of my name—hate me, possibly—no, probably.... And so now—before I have irrevocably angered you—before I have incurred your—dislike—I want to say—if I may—that I—never was as unhappy in all my life."
Lying very still against his shoulder she thought: "He does not really mean to do it."
"Karen," he went on, "if you don't find it in your heart to spare me this—duty—how can I spare myself?"
She thought: "He does mean to do it."
"And yet—and yet——"
"He won't do it!" she thought.
"There never has been a coward in my race!" he said more calmly.
"He does mean to do it!" she thought. "He is a barbarian, a Hun, a Visigoth, a savage! He is a brute, all through. And I—I don't know what I am becoming—resting here—listening to such—such infamy from him! I don't know what is going to become of me—I don't—I don't!"
She caught her breath like a hurt child, hot tears welled up; she turned and buried her face against his arm, overwhelmed by her own toleration of herself and the man she was learning so quickly to endure, to fear, and to care for with all the capacity of a heart and mind that had never before submitted one atom of either mind or heart to any man.