She had been looking him defiantly in the eyes, and she could not withdraw her gaze. For the endless moment that ensued, her breath was taken away. Then she asked in a low, steady voice, “Did you mean to say that?”
“No.”
“I believe you, and I forgive you. No, no!” she cried, at a demonstration of protest from him, “don’t speak again!”
He obeyed, instantly, implicitly. With the tiller in his hand he looked past her and guided the boat’s course. It became intolerable.
“Have I ever done anything that gave you the right to—to—say that?” she asked, without the self-command which she might have wished to show.
“No,” he said, “you were only the most beautiful”—
“I am not beautiful! And if I were”—
“It wasn’t to be helped! I saw from the first how good and noble you were, and”—
“This is absurd!” she exclaimed. “I am neither good nor noble; and if I were”—
“It wouldn’t make any difference. Whatever you are, you are the one woman in the world to me; and you always will be.”