"Oh, yes. It won’t do for me to make advances to you." "When have you made any advances?" "I came out here. I wanted you to—kiss me. Oh, this isn’t going to do at all. I can see that, now!——" She framed her face in her hands and shook her head. "Jim—dearest, dearest of men—it won’t do. I didn’t realize that I was caring for you in this way. Why," she added, her grey eyes widening, "it is almost dangerous!" "The thing to do," he said, reddening, "is to tell Oswald." "I can’t tell him!" "You’ve got to, if you fall in love with me." "Oh, Jim, it would be too heartless! You don’t know——" "No, I don’t!" he exclaimed impatiently, "and I think it’s time I did! You can’t be in love with two men at the same time." She blushed furiously: "I—he never even touched my fingers with his lips! And you—you take me into your arms with no more hesitation than if I were a child.... I believe I’ve behaved like one with you. I’m old enough to be ashamed, and I’m beginning to be." "Is it because you’re married?" "Yes, it is! I can’t let myself go. I can’t let myself care for—for what you do—to me. I came out here to give you the chance—ready to learn something—desiring to. I mustn’t take any more lessons—from you." He said: "I am going to tell Oswald that I care for you, Steve." To his astonishment, tears flashed in the grey eyes: "If you do," she said, "it will be like killing something that makes no resistance. It—it’s too cruel—like murder. I—I couldn’t bring myself——" "Why? Did you marry him out of pity?" She bit her lip and stood staring into vacancy, one hand tightening on the stair-rail, the other worrying her lips. "I tell you," she said slowly, her gaze still remote, "the only thing to do is to do nothing.... Because I’m afraid.... I couldn’t bear it. I’d have to think of it all my life and I—I simply couldn’t endure it.... You mustn’t ask me any more." "Very well," he said coldly. "And I think we’d better go back to the studio——" As he passed her he paused, waiting for her to precede him. She turned; her hand fell from the banisters and hung beside her; but the slender fingers groped for his, slipped among them, tightened, drawing him partly toward her; and her left foot moved forward a trifle, blocking his way and bringing them closely confronted. "I—love you," she faltered. "And I don’t know what to do about it."