“Why?”
I held my breath and looked straight into her dark, luminous eyes. Then, in as firm a voice as I could summon, I said—
“Because—because, Muriel, I love you?”
“Love me!” she gasped, with a look of bewilderment. “No! No!”
“Yes,” I went on, in mad impetuousness, “for years I have loved you, but feared to tell you, because you might regard my declaration as a mere foolish fancy on account of our positions, and impossible of realisation because of the probable opposition of my family. But I have now told you the truth, Muriel. I love you!”
And with my hands holding hers, I bent for the first time to kiss her lips. But in an instant she avoided me, and twisted her gloved fingers from my grasp.
“You must be mad!” she cried, with a glint of indignation in her eyes. “You must be mad to think that I could love you—of all men!”