Cornwall to see you because I hoped to sit with you under this rock and be made love to. Do you believe me?"
"Not in the least."
"Well, it's quite as true as that I said what I did just now out of kindness. Kindness! I . . . I could shake you!"
His face was very troubled.
"Don't you see that I cannot—I dare not—put any other interpretation on it? You still feel an interest in the man who nearly fell under your wheels that night. You want to know that he is not . . . not too unhappy. You want to leave him feeling that he can count on your friendship—and he does, and will. And that is all. It is a great deal."
"I think you are the most annoying, insulting, irritating of men! I don't know why I came all this way to see you and talk to you . . . except that I had to, Chip. Do you hear me? I had to!"
"Judy," he said, looking at her with eyes that seemed not to see her, "I am perfectly certain of one thing. And that is, that if by some miracle you could, that you must not . . . you must not . . . care for me. But you cannot, you cannot!"
He put out his hand toward her, gropingly, and she took it.
