Marie caught her breath sharply.
133 "I was never good at riddles," she said in a hard voice.
There was a moment's silence, then he flung the cigarette case down, and, turning, came over to where she stood and caught her in his arms—such strong young arms they were, which there was no resisting.
"I love you," he said desperately. "I think I've always loved you, and I can't bear it any longer. If Chris doesn't care for you, what did he want to marry you for? It was cheating some other poor devil out of Paradise . . . Marie—I know you think I'm only a boy, but I'd die for you this minute if it would make you happy; I'd . . . oh, my darling, don't cry."
Marie had made no attempt to free herself from his clasp. She was standing in the circle of his arms, her head averted, and the big tears running slowly down her cheeks.
She put up her hand to brush them away when she heard the distress in his voice.
"I'm all right—oh, please, if you wouldn't!" for he had caught her hand and was kissing it passionately.
He went on pleading, praying, imploring, in his boy's voice; for he was very sincere, and he had suffered more for her sake and the neglect which he knew she was receiving from Chris than from the hopelessness of his own cause.
He would make her so happy, he said; they would go away together abroad somewhere. He hadn't got any money—at least, only a little— but he'd work like the very deuce if he had her to work for.
She put her hand over his lips then to silence him.