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
