"Because I'm not."
"Why not? There's nothing I wouldn't do to make you happy—you know that.
Tell me!"
"You wouldn't understand. I couldn't make you understand."
"Is it something I've done?"
"You don't love me," she said. "You only want me. I'm not made that way,
I'm not generous enough, I guess. I've got to have work to do."
"Work to do! But you'll share my work—it's nothing without you."
She shook her head. "I knew you couldn't understand. You don't realize how impossible it is. I don't blame you—I suppose a man can't."
She was not upbraiding him, she spoke quietly, in a tone almost lifeless, yet the emotional effect of it was tremendous.
"But," he began, and stopped, and was swept on again by an impulse that drowned all caution, all reason. "But you can help me—when we are married."
"Married!" she repeated. "You want to marry me?"