“Sit down, Paul, by me. Let me hold your hand. I feel so weak and so afraid. And when you have gone and I am alone with him. . . . You know I love you. . . . But I have promised myself to him. I cannot break my word. I can ask him to give me up. I will do that.”
“You must tell him you cannot marry him. Why should one man insist on making three people miserable? For he will not be happy. I shall not leave you now until you have promised to marry me. I kiss you, I hold you, I take you.”
He lifted her in his arms and carried her to a sofa.
He put pillows under her head and knelt beside her.
“You cannot get up. I will not let you go—you must rest.”
“Paul!”
He kissed her.
“Launa, if you could know, could guess how I hunger for you. How I dream of you and long for you until the day is a long dreary reality, and night is life when I see you and hear your voice—gentle and soft—I love your voice. In my dreams I hold you in my arms.”
“Paul, you forget that I have promised. I have given myself to him.”
“You mean?”