"What do you want me to say, Pat?"
"I want you to tell me honestly how you think you're going to hold me if I do marry you."
"Come over here."
She walked across to him, defiant, daring, provocative. "Well?"
"You love me, don't you, Pat?"
"You make me when you're with me."
"And when I'm not?"
"That's just the trouble. You're there all the time, parked just around the corner and you won't let me love anybody else enough to—to do any good."
"And if I asked you now," he said, low and insistent, "you'd come back to me and be to me what you were before. Wouldn't you?"