“No, no!”
“I think so! Give some other chap the chance to make you happy.”
The blanched lips twisted into a wry smile.
“You are only trying to be kind. I wish you wouldn’t. I like you better when you’re honest. Nobody has ever been in love with me in all my life. Nobody has even thought about me like that.”
“I have,” he replied simply.
Dumbfounded, she sat up in bed and leaned towards him uncomprehendingly. “You have?”
“Yes,” he reiterated sturdily. “I have. Ever since our drive to Bronxville. And you’ve been happy with me, too. Didn’t we have a good time when we bought the hat and the earrings? Haven’t our little supper parties been fun?”
A wave of scarlet flooded her face and neck. “You don’t know what you are saying. Yes, of course I’ve been happy with you. But that doesn’t mean we love each other! Perhaps you pity me. But the other is—is absurd.” Her shaky tones contained both a question and a longing.
“Why will you persist in depreciating yourself? Has nobody ever told you how sweet you are?” He bent over her and grasped the tiny hands in his. “Claire, I love you and I want you to divorce this man and marry me. I know I can make you happy. I will live only for that. I’ll take you to Chicago and in new surroundings you will forget all that you have had to suffer. Listen, darling, won’t you believe me?”
She drew her hands away with a little sob. “But you don’t understand. You forget——”