'How much do you think I do?' he asked.
'I don't know,' she replied.
'But what is your opinion?' he asked.
There was a pause. At length, in the darkness, came her voice, hard and
indifferent:
'Very little indeed,' she said coldly, almost flippant.
His heart went icy at the sound of her voice.
'Why don't I love you?' he asked, as if admitting the truth of her
accusation, yet hating her for it.
'I don't know why you don't--I've been good to you. You were in a
FEARFUL state when you came to me.'
Her heart was beating to suffocate her, yet she was strong and
unrelenting.
'When was I in a fearful state?' he asked.
'When you first came to me. I HAD to take pity on you. But it was never
love.'
It was that statement 'It was never love,' which sounded in his ears
with madness.
'Why must you repeat it so often, that there is no love?' he said in a
voice strangled with rage.
'Well you don't THINK you love, do you?' she asked.
He was silent with cold passion of anger.
Pages:
891
892
893
894
895
896
897
898
899
900
901
902
903
904
905
906
907
908
909
910
911
912
913
914
915