"I mean," she said, and though it still trembled beyond her control, her
voice gathered confidence with the words, "that by taking me--by keeping
me--you are taking--keeping--what is not your own."
"Love gives me the right," he asserted, swiftly--"your love--and mine."
But the clearer vision had come to her. She shook her head against his
shoulder. "No--no! That is wrong. That is not--the greater love."
"What do you mean by--the greater love?" He was holding her still
closely, but no longer with that fierce possession.
She answered him with a steadiness that surprised herself: "I mean the
only love that is worth having--the love that lasts."
He caught up the words passionately. "And hasn't my love lasted? Have I
ever thought of any other woman since the day I met you? Haven't I been
fighting against odds ever since to be able to come to you an honest
man--and worthy of your love?"
"Oh, I know--I know!" she said, and there was a sound of heartbreak in
her voice. "But--the odds have been too heavy. I thought you had
forgotten--long ago."
"Forgotten!" he said.
"Yes." With a sob she answered him. "Men do forget--nearly all of them.
Fletcher Hill didn't. He kept on waiting, and--and--they said it wasn't
fair--to spoil a man's life for a dream--that could never come true.
So--I gave in at last. I am--promised to him."
"Against your will?" His arms tightened upon her again.
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