"No; no! Don't look at me," she breathed.
"You don't know what you mean," he whispered.
"I do! I'm not a child. Take me with you."
"It means ruin for you."
"Ruin! That's a word! Words don't frighten me."
"They do me. They're the most terrible things in the world."
She laughed at that. "Is it the word you're afraid of, or is it me?" she challenged. "I'm not asking you anything. I don't want you to marry me. Oh!" she cried with a sinking break of the voice, "do you think I'm bad?"
Freeing himself, he caught her face between his hands.
"Are you—have you been 'bad,' as you call it?"
"I don't blame you for asking—after what I've said. But I haven't."