"If it were not for Captain Polkington would you have sent me away?" he asked.
"Y—e—s," she answered, fighting with her tears. "Oh, go! Please, please go!"
She crumpled herself into a small miserable heap and he leaned over the block and drew her into his arms.
For a moment she struggled, burrowing her head into his coat; there was a good deal of burrowing and not much struggling. "No, you wouldn't," he said to her hair, "you would have married me."
"I might have said I would, but I shouldn't really have done it," she contended without looking up. "I shouldn't when it came to the point. You had better let me go, I am spoiling your coat, my face is all wet—and I don't know where my handkerchief is."
"Take mine, you will find it somewhere. Tell me, why would you not have married me when it came to the point? Because your courage failed you?"
No answer; then, "I can't find that handkerchief."
"You have not tried. Are you afraid to try? Are you afraid of me? Is that why you would not have married me—you would have been afraid to live at close quarters with me? Do you still think you don't know me well enough?"
"I don't know your name."
The answer was ridiculous, but he knew how the ridiculous touched even tragedies for Julia.