His face took on a strong resolve. He couldn't go without telling her he loved her. His courage was suddenly riotous.
“Once, not long ago, I dared to believe I might level the differences between us. I recognized what they were, but now it is hopeless. There are some things a man can't overcome, no matter how hard he tries, and I suppose being the son of a murderer is one of these.” He paused, and, raising his eyes from the carpet, glanced at her, but her face was averted. He went on, desperately: “It's quite hopeless, but I have dared to hope, and I wanted you to know. I hate to leave things unfinished.”
There was a long silence, then Miss Emory said, softly:
“I am so sorry.”
“Which means you've never cared for me,” dryly.
But she did not answer him. She was wondering how she would have felt had the confession come forty-eight hours earlier.
“I suppose I've been quite weak and foolish,” said Dan.
She looked into his face with a slow smile.
“Why do you say that? Is it weak and foolish to care for some one?”
“Wasn't it?” with suddenly kindled hope, for he found it hard to give her up.