"You may go too far!" she exclaimed passionately. "There are some things that may not be said!"
Cardiff went over to her quickly and took her hand. "Forgive me," he said. "Forgive me—I am very much in earnest."
She turned away from him. "You had no right to say it. You know my work, and you know that the ideal of it is everything in the world to me—my religion. How dared you suggest a comparison between, it and—cette ordure la!"
Her voice broke, and Cardiff fancied she was on the brink of tears. "Elfrida," he cried miserably, "let us have an end of this! I have no right to intrude my opinions—if you like, my prejudices—between you and what you are doing. But I have come to beg you to give me the right." He came a step closer and laid his free hand lightly on her shoulder. "Elfrida," he said unhesitatingly, "I want you to be my wife."
"And Janet's stepmother!" thought the girl swiftly. But she hoped he would not mention Janet; it would burlesque the situation.
"Your going away made me quite sure," he added simply. "I can never do without you altogether again. Instead I want to possess you altogether." He bent his fine face to the level of hers, and took both her hands in his. Elfrida thought that by that light he looked strangely young.
She slipped her hands away, but did not move, He was still very close to her—she could feel his breath upon her hair.
"Oh no!" she said. "Marriage is so absurd!" and immediately it occurred to her that she might have put this more effectively. "Cela n'est pas bien dit!" she thought.
"Let us sit down together and talk about it," he answered gently, and drew her toward the little sofa in the corner.
"But—I am afraid—there is nothing more to say. And in a quarter of an hour I must go."