"Then he would accept his fate. That's the risk. You know I told you three months ago that I would run the risk. It was part of our compact."
"Oh, our compact! I had forgotten that we had a compact—a real serious compact. Did we fix any limit for it?"
"You told me," said Hallett, "that I might go on caring for you—being your friend—your lover on probation"
"No, no," she cried; "that means too much. You were to ask for nothing."
"I have never asked for any thing—I have never even kissed your hand. I will never do so till you yourself tell me that I may." Hallett's voice trembled with emotion. "I will worship you as one might worship a star. And you can do nothing to prevent that. In this sense you can't help my being your lover."
"In that sense—no. You are very chivalrous. Now that is what I like. I admire you when you are like that. But at the same time I am going to say something horrid."
"Oh, say it."
"I think, do you know, that I despise you a little for—for—caring so much. That is like a woman, isn't it?"
"Yes; it's like a woman—at least so the cynics who write novels tell us."
"Well, about our compact? I am sure it had a limit—tell me."
"You were to give me a definite answer whenever I asked for one."
"And you asked me for one just now—and I gave it. You said you could not stand things any longer. So the compact is ended."
"No. You said I might end it if I pleased; and I don't choose to end it after what you said"
"What? About affection?"
"Yes. I'll never end it while you say that you care for me the least bit."
"Affection isn't caring. It's what one feels for one's pet horse, or one's dog—or one's friend."
