"Yes," replied she.
Another pause. Norman said musingly: "Poor Tetlow! I've not seen him
since he went away to Bermuda--at least he said he was going there. One
day he sent the firm a formal letter of resignation. . . . Poor Tetlow!
Do you regret not having married him?"
"I couldn't marry a man I didn't love." She looked at him with sweet
friendly eyes. "I couldn't even marry you, much as I like you."
Norman laughed--a dismal attempt at ease and raillery.
"When he told me about your marrying," she went on, "I knew how I felt
about you. For I was not a bit jealous. Why haven't you ever said
anything about it?"
He disregarded this. He leaned forward and with curious deliberateness
took her hand. She let it lie gently in his. He put his arm round her
and drew her close to him. She did not resist. He kissed her upturned
face, kissed her upon the lips. She remained passive, looking at him
with calm eyes.
"Kiss me," he said.
She kissed him--without hesitation and without warmth.
"Why do you look at me so?" he demanded.
"I can't understand."
"Understand what?"
"Why you should wish to kiss me when you love another woman. What would
she say if she knew?"
"I'm sure I don't know. And I rather think I don't care. You are the
only person on earth that interests me."
"Then why are you marrying?"
"Let's not talk about that. Let's talk about ourselves." He clasped her
passionately, kissed her at first with self-restraint, then in a kind of
frenzy. "How can you be so cruel!" he cried. "Are you utterly cold?"
"I do not love you," she said.
"Why not?"
"There's no reason. I--just don't. I've sometimes thought perhaps it was
because you don't love me."
"Good God, Dorothy! What do you want me to say or do?"
"Nothing," replied she calmly. "You asked me why I didn't love you, and
I was trying to explain. I don't want anything more than I'm getting. I
am content--aren't you?"
"Content!" He laughed sardonically. "As well ask Tantalus if he is
content, with the water always before his eyes and always out of reach.
I want you--all you have to give. I couldn't be content with less."
"You ought not to talk to me this way," she reproved gently, "when you
are engaged."
He flung her hand into her lap. "You are making a fool of me. And I
don't wonder. I've invited it. Surely, never since man was created has
there been such another ass as I." He drew her to her feet, seized her
roughly by the shoulders. "When are you coming to your senses?" he
demanded.
"What do you mean?" she inquired, in her childlike puzzled way.
He shook her, kissed her violently, held her at arm's length. "Do you
think it wise to trifle with me?" he asked. "Don't your good sense tell
you there's a limit even to such folly as mine?"
"What _is_ the matter?" she asked pathetically. "What do you want? I can't
give you what I haven't got to give."
"No," he cried. "But I want what you _have_ got to give."