For the second time Roberts gestured. “Take that consideration out of the discussion absolutely, please,” he said. “With that understanding do you still wish this pretence to go on?”
“I wish to keep your friendship.”
“My friendship—nothing more? I’m brutally blunt, I realize; but I can’t let to-night, this last night, go by without knowing something of how you feel. You never have given me even so much as a hint, you know. I’ve waited patiently, I think, for you to select the moment for confidence; but you avoid it always; and to-morrow at this time—You know I love you, Elice. Knowing that, do you still wish me to go away pretending merely polite friendship? Do you wish it to be that way, Elice?”
The girl ignored the question, ignored all except the dominant statement.
“Yes, I know you love me,” she echoed. “You told me so once before.”
“Once! A thousand times; you understood the language. It seems foolish even to reiterate the fact now. And yet you’ve never answered.”
“I know. I said it was unfair; and still—”
“You won’t answer even yet.”
“I can’t. I’m drifting and waiting for light. 292 Don’t misunderstand; that isn’t religion—I’ve not been to church in a year, or said a prayer. It isn’t that at all. I simply don’t want to hate myself, or be hated by another justly later.”