“No, you don't love me!--you can't love me! I wouldn't let you love me after all the misery I have caused you! I didn't know how much until I began to suffer myself and saw Mr. Willits suffer. I am not worthy of any man's love. I will never trust myself again--I can only try to be to the men about me as Uncle George is to everyone. Oh, Harry!--Harry!--Why was I born this way--headstrong wilful--never satisfied? Why am I different from the other women?” He tried to take her hand, but she drew it away. “No!--not that!--not that! Let us be just as we were when--Just as we used to be. Sit over there where I can see you better and watch your face as you talk. Tell me all you have done--what you have seen and what sort of places you have been in. We heard from you through--” He squared his shoulders and faced her, his voice ringing clear, his eyes flashing: something of the old Dutch admiral was in his face. “Kate--I will have none of it! Don't talk such nonsense to me; I won't listen. If you don't know your own heart I know mine; you've GOT to love me!--you MUST love me! Look at me. In all the years I have been away from you I have lived the life you would have me live--every request you ever made of me I have carried out. I did this knowing you would never be my wife and you would be Willits's! I did it because you were my Madonna and my religion and I loved the soul of you and lived for you as men live to please the God they have never seen. There were days and nights when I never expected to see you or any one else whom I loved again--but you never failed--your light never went out in my heart. Don't you see now why you've got to love me? What was it you loved in me once that I haven't got now? How am I different? What do I lack? Look into my eyes--close--deep down--read my heart! Never, as God is my judge, have I done a thing since I last kissed your forehead, that you would have been ashamed of. Do you think, now that you are free, that I am going back without you? I am not that kind of a man.” She half started from her seat: “Harry!” she cried in a helpless tone--“you do not know what you are saying--you must not--” He leaned over and took both her hands firmly in his own. “Look at me! Tell me the truth--as you would to your God! Do you love me?” She made an effort to withdraw her hands, then she sank back. “I--I--don't know--” she murmured. “YOU DO--search again--way down in your heart. Go over every day we have lived--when we were children and played together--all that horror at Moorlands when I shot Willits--the night of Mrs. Cheston's ball when I was drunk--all the hours I have held you in my arms, my lips to yours--All of it--every hour of it--balance one against the other. Think of your loneliness--not mine--yours--and then tell me you do not know! You DO know! Oh, my God, Kate!--you must love me! What else would you want a man to do for you that I have not done?”