Kent seized her arm, a bit roughly, “Have I got to come right out and tell you, in plain English, that I--that it's because I'm so deep in love with you I can't. If you only knew what it's cost me this last year--to play the game and not play it too hard! What do you think a man's made of? Do you think a man can care for a woman, like I care for you, and--Do you think he wants to be just pals? And stand back and watch some drunken brute abuse her--and never--Here!” His voice grew testier. “Don't do that--don't! I didn't want to hurt you--God knows I didn't want to hurt you!” He threw his seem around her shoulders and pulled her toward him. “Don't--pal, I'm a brute, I guess, like all the rest of the male humans. I don't mean to be--it's the way I'm made. When a woman means so much to me that I can't think of anything else, day or night, and get to counting days and scheming to see her--why--being friends--like we've been--is like giving a man a teaspoon of milk and water when he's starving to death, and thinking that oughta do. But I shouldn't have let it hurt you. I tried to stand for it, little woman. These were times when I just had to fight myself not to take you up in my arms and carry you of and keep you. You must admit,” he argued, smiling rather wanly, “that, considering how I've felt about it, I've done pretty tolerable well up till now. You don't--you never will know how much it's cost. Why, my nerves are getting so raw I can't stand anything any more. That's why I'm going. I don't want to hang around till I do something--foolish.” He took his arm away from her shoulders and moved farther off; he was not sure how far he might trust himself. “If I thought you cared--or if there was anything I could do for you,” he ventured, after a moment, “why, it would be different. But--” Val lifted her head and turned to him. “There is something--or there was--or--oh, I can't think any more! I suppose”--doubtfully--“if you feel as you say you do, why--it would be--wicked to stay. But you don't; you must just imagine it.” “Oh, all right,” Kent interpolated ironically. “But if you go away--” She got up and stood before him, breathing unevenly, in little gasps. “Oh, you mustn't go away! Please don't go! I--there's something terrible happened--oh, Kent, I need you! I can't tell you what it is--it's the most horrible thing I ever heard of! You can't imagine anything more horrible, Kent!” She twisted her fingers together nervously, and the blossoms dropped, one by one, on the ground. “If you go,” she pleaded, “I won't have a friend in the country, not a real friend. And--and I never needed a friend as much as I do now, and you mustn't go. I--I can't let you go!” It was like her hysterical fear of being left alone after the fire.