I started at the firmness of this response, looking at her in dismay.
She spoke as though she feared me!
“Then you have no trust in me?” I exclaimed despairingly. “For one simple little piece of negligence you have utterly abandoned me!”
“No!” she replied, in a voice low but firm. “You have spoken the truth. I cannot trust you, neither can I love you. Therefore let us part, and let us in future remain asunder.”
“Ah, no!” I cried, imploringly. “Don’t utter those cruel words, Muriel. You cannot really mean them. You know how fondly I love you.”
We had arrived outside Highbury Station; and as I uttered these words she halted, and without response, held out her hand, saying in a cold tone—
“You must leave me now. I ask this favour of you.”
“I cannot leave you,” I panted in the wild desire which possessed me. “You must be mine, Muriel. Do not let this man draw you beneath his influence by his smooth words and studied politeness, for recollect who he is. You are aware—therefore I need not tell you.”
“Who he is? What do you mean?”
“I mean that he is in no way fit to be your lover,” I responded, my lover’s flame of passion unallayed. “When you meet him, test him and watch if he really loves you. Recollect that your beauty, Muriel, is striking; and that personal beauty is often woman’s deadliest enemy. I have, as you know, always sought to protect you from men who have flattered you merely because you possessed a pretty face. I loved you then, darling—I love you now!”