"Not mine," he said dismally. "Daphne I have not been here all this time without knowing you and the sort of people from whom you spring. It is because of your tradition of honor that you felt Arthur's misfortunes so much. I can bring upon you and yours a greater disgrace than he could."
"I won't believe it," she cried.
"I don't want you to," he said gratefully. "I remember the thing said about your family, 'the Grenvils for Loyalty' and I love you for it, but Lady Polruan was right when she called me an unknown adventurer from America. The other countrymen of mine you meet here, like Conington Warren for instance, have their place at home. I haven't. I am without the pale. They don't know me and I can't know them. There is that great gulf fixed which you can never understand. I want to go away leaving you still my friend. If you ask me questions about myself and I answer them truly I may have to carry away with me the picture of your scorn. Be kind, Daphne and don't ask any more."
"I should never scorn you," she cried.
He put his arms about her and kissed her.
"My dear," he whispered, "my sweet, believe always that there is something God himself could not alter or I would never give you up like this."
"It is very hard," she said presently, "to have found love and then to know it must only be a little dream that passes."
"It is my just punishment," he answered.
"When do you go?"
"Tomorrow."