"That is enough," she said, very tenderly, and now the tears coursed down her own cheeks. "I will not ask again. I do not wish to know. You shall forget that I asked you. Come, dearest, kiss me. Think no more of this. Come, now." And she drew his head down to hers.
Paul threw himself into a chair. His prostration was abject.
"Come, dearest," said Greta, soothingly, "be a man."
"There is worse to come," he said.
"What matter," said Greta, and smiled. "I shall not fear if I have you beside me."
"I can bear it no more," said Paul. "The thing is past cure."
"No, dearest, it is not. Only death is that."
"Greta, you said death would bind us closer together, but this thing draws us apart."
"No, dearest, it does not. That it can not do."
"Could nothing part us?" said Paul, lifting his face.