“You don’t know what you are asking,” she replied, dropping her eyes.
“Yes, I do,” he insisted. “I want to blot out the memory of every pang I have caused you by a devotion beyond anything you have ever dreamed.”
“Don’t, Jack,” protested Helen.
“Why not? Don’t you think I mean it? From now on I have no interest except you, dear; and I will make you forget everything which has happened.”
Helen pressed his hand gratefully, and then withdrew her own.
“This is only going to open everything up again,” she said, in a low, strained voice, “and that will be simply another great mistake.”
“You don’t believe me.” Armstrong’s voice was reproachful.
“I believe you feel all that you say now, Jack.”
“But—”
“But you are not yourself now; that is all.”