“Oh, my dear Jenny—my little one—what have I done to you?”
“Dearest....”
“Little white bird, have I touched you with my ugly unclean hands—spotted your white wings?”
“Gert”—she took both his hands, speaking impetuously—“listen to me. You have done nothing but what was good and kind; it is I who have done wrong. I was tired and you gave me rest; I was cold and you warmed me. I needed rest and I needed warmth; I needed to feel that somebody loved me. I did not wish to deceive you, Gert, but you did not understand—I could not make you see that I loved you in a different way—with a very poor love. Can you not understand?”
“No, Jenny, I don’t believe that a young innocent girl gives herself to a man if she does not believe her love will last.”
“That is just what I ask you to forgive—I knew you did not understand, and yet I accepted all you gave me. It became more and more unendurable, and I realized that I could not go on. I am fond of you, Gert, but I cannot go on only taking when I can give you nothing that is real.”
“Is this what you wanted to tell me yesterday?” asked Gert after a pause.
She nodded.
“And instead....”
Jenny turned scarlet.