"And do _you_ expect me to believe in--in such an exaggerated and romantic expression to a staid and matter-of-fact widow whom you never saw more than once in your life?" "You _do_ believe it." Confused, scarcely knowing what she was saying, she still attempted to make light of his words, holding her own against herself for the moment, making even some headway. And all the while she was aware of mounting emotion--a swift inexplicable charm falling over them both. He had become silent again, and she was saying she knew not what--fortifying her common-sense with gay inconsequences, when he looked up straight into her eyes. "I have distressed you. I should not have spoken as I did." "No, you should not----" "Have I offended you?" "I--don't know." Matters were running too swiftly for her; she strove to remain cool, collected, but confusion was steadily threatening her, and neither resentment nor indifference appeared as allies. "Mrs. Paige, can you account for--that night? The moment I touched you----" She half rose, sank back into her seat, her startled eyes meeting his. "I--don't know what you mean." "Yes--you know." Flushed, voices unsteady, they no longer recognised themselves. "You have never seen me but once," she said. "You cannot believe----" "I have not known a moment's peace since I first saw you." She caught her breath. "It is your business worries that torment you----" "It is desire to be near you." "I don't think you had better say such a thing----" "I know I had better not. But it is said, and it is true. I'm not trying to explain it to you or to myself. It's just true. There has not been one moment, since I saw you, which has been free from memory of you----" "Please----" "I scarcely know what I am saying--but it's true!" He checked himself. "I'm losing my head now, which isn't like me!" He choked and stood up; she could not move; every nerve in her had become tense with emotions so bewildering that mind and body remained fettered. He was walking to and fro, silent and white under his self-control. She, seated, gazed at him as though stunned, but every pulse was riotously unsteady. "I suppose you think me crazy," he said hoarsely, "but I've not known a moment's peace of mind since that night--not one! I _couldn't_ keep away any longer. I can't even hold my tongue now, though I suppose it's ruining me every time I move it. It's a crazy thing to come here and say what I'm saying." He went over and sat down again, and bent his dark gaze on the floor. Then: "Can you forgive what I have done to you?"