"I thought men always were," she said simply. "Please tell me." "No, I'm not in love with anybody. I have had enough of that to last me for a year or two." "Then--oh, won't you try to like me again? Nobody will ever love you so much as I do--you said I looked just the same--" "Yes, but you _aren't_ the same." "Yes I am. I think really I'm better than I used to be," she said timidly. "You're _not_ the same," he went on, growing angrier to feel that he had allowed himself to grow angry with her. "You were a girl, and my sweetheart; now you're a widow--that man's widow! You're not the same. The past can't be undone so easily, I assure you." "Oh," she cried, clenching her hands, "I know there must be something I could say that you would listen to--oh, I wish I could think what! I suppose as it is I'm saying things no other woman ever would have said--but I don't care! I won't be reserved and dignified, and leave everything to you, like girls in books. I lost too much by that before. I will say every single thing I can think of. I will! Dearest, you said you would always love me--you don't care for anyone else. I _know_ you would love me again if you would only let yourself. Won't you forgive me?" "I can't," he said briefly. "Have you never done anything that needed to be forgiven? I would forgive you anything in the world! Didn't you care for other people before you knew me? And I'm not angry about it. And I never cared for him." "That only makes it worse," he said. She sprang to her feet. "It makes it worse for me! But if you loved me it ought to make it better for you. If you had loved me with your heart and mind you would be glad to think how little it was, after all, that I did give to that man." "Sold--not gave--" "Oh, don't spare me! But there's no need to tell _you_ not to spare me. But I don't care what you say. You've loved other women. I've never loved anyone but you. And yet you can't forgive me!" "It's not the same," he repeated dully. "I _am_ the same--only I'm more patient, I hope, and not so selfish. But your pride is hurt, and you think it's not quite the right thing to marry a rich man's widow. And you want to go home and feel how strong and heroic you've been, and be proud of yourself because you haven't let me make a fool of you." It was so nearly true that he denied it instantly. "I don't," he said. "I could have forgiven you anything, however wicked you'd been--but I can't forgive you for having been--"