With sudden impulse he went down on his knees beside her and put his arms round her, holding her fast.
"Don't be so cruel, Marie Celeste," he said hoarsely. "I know I've not played the game, but I can if you'll give me a chance—I swear I can, and I will! It's the whole of our lives that you're so calmly proposing to smash up. Do you realize that? Have you forgotten all the good times we used to have together—I haven't— and what a little sport you were?"
He saw her wince as if he had hurt her, and he went on eagerly, pushing his advantage.
"Do you remember years ago that you used to say you would never marry anyone but me when we grew up?"
He laughed rather shakily.
"You never thought it would come true, did you, Marie Celeste? I didn't anyway. But it has, and we're going to be ever so happy . . . I swear I've never given a thought to any woman but you. If I've treated you badly, there's no woman in the world I've treated better. I know it's a rotten argument, but . . ."
He stopped, choked by a sudden emotion, for Marie had broken down into bitter crying.
Chris drew her down to his shoulder and kissed her hair. It felt very soft against his lips. He was sure he had conquered, as he thought her tears were tenderness for the past and joy for the future. He did not understand that they were only tears of sorrow for the dream that had gone so sadly awry.
When presently she turned her face away he drew it back again and kissed her lips—he had never kissed them before. The only kisses he had given Marie Celeste in his life had been casual pecks on her cheek when he came from school or went back, and the few awkward kisses he had bestowed upon her since their marriage.
She lay limply against his shoulder, too emotionally wearied to resist him, but her lips were unresponsive.