“But, Philip,” she said, “that was when I was a child. It was only a half promise then, and I didn't know what I was doing. I didn't know what love was. All that came later, dearest, much later—you know when.”
“To Pete it is the same thing, Kate,” said Philip. “He is coming home to claim you——”
She stopped him by getting in front of him and saying, with face down, smoothing his sleeve as she spoke, “You are a man, Philip, and you cannot understand. How can you, and how can I tell you? When a girl is not a woman, but only a child, she is a different person. She can't love anybody then—not really—not to say love, and the promises she makes can't count. It was not I that promised myself to Pete—if I did promise. It was my little sister—the little sister that was me long, long ago, but is now gone—put to sleep inside me somewhere. Is that very foolish, darling?”
“But think of Pete,” said Philip; “think of him going away for love of you, living five years abroad, toiling, slaving, saving, encountering privations, perhaps perils, and all for you, all for love of you. Then think of him coming home with his heart full of you, buoyed up with the hope of you, thirsting, starving, and yearning for you, and finding you lost to him, dead to him, worse than dead—it will kill him, Kate.”
She was unmoved by the picture. “I am very sorry, but I do not love him,” she said quietly. “I am sorry—what else can a girl be when she does not love a young man?”
“He left me to take care of you, too, and you see—you see by the telegram—he is coming home with faith in my loyalty. How can I tell him that I have broken my trust? How can I meet him and explain——”
“I know, Philip. Say we heard he was dead and——”
“No, it would be too wretched. It's only three weeks since the letter came—and it would not be true, Kate—it would revolt me.”
She lifted her eyes in a fond look of shame-faced love, and said again, “I know, then—lay the blame on me, Philip. What do I care? Say it was all my fault, and I made you love me. I shan't care for anybody's talk. And it's true, isn't it? Partly true, eh?”
“If I talked to Pete of temptation I should despise myself,” said Philip; and then she threw her head up and said proudly—