How can you say so when you know it isn't true?"
"I've been waiting here an hour, half dead with impatience, and you
won't so much as let me touch you for a reward."
"I can't--you oughtn't to ask me, Mr. Jonathan."
"Could a single kiss hurt you? I kissed you once."
"It's--it's because you kissed me once that you mustn't kiss me again."
"You mean you didn't like it?"
"What makes you so unkind? You know it isn't that."
"Then why do you refuse?" He was in an irritable humour, and this
irritation showed in his face, in his movements, in the short, abrupt
sound of his words.
"I can't let you do it because--because I didn't know what it was like
until that first time," she protested, while two large tears rolled from
her eyes.
Softened by her confusion, his genial smile shone on her for an instant
before the gloom returned to his features. The last few weeks had preyed
on his nerves until he told himself that he could no longer control the
working of his emotions. The solitude, the emptiness of his days, the
restraint put upon him by his invalid mother--all these engendered a
condition of mind in which any transient fancy might develop into a
winged fury of impulse.
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