to you what I have always
been?"

"I--_don't_--care."

"Of course not. How _can_ you?" She leaned nearer, dark and curious gaze
searching his. Then, with a nervous laugh voicing the impossible--"_You_
are not in love with me--that way. Are you?" she asked, scarcely
realising what she was saying.

"No," he said, forcing a smile. "Are you with _me_?"

She flushed scarlet:

"Kelly, I never thought--dreamed--hoped--" Her voice caught in her
throat a moment; "I--such a matter has not occurred to me." She looked
at him partly dismayed, partly confused, unable now to understand
him--or even herself.

"You know--that kind of love--" she began--"_real_ love, never has
happened to me. You didn't think _that_, did you?--because--just because
I did flirt a little with you? It didn't mean anything serious--anything
of _that_ kind. Kelly, dear, _have_ you mistaken me? Is _that_ what
annoys you? Were you afraid I was silly enough, mad enough to--to really
think of you--in that way?"

"No."

"Oh, I was sure you couldn't believe it of me. See how perfectly frank
and honest I have been with you. Why, you never were sentimental--and a
girl isn't unless a man begins it! You never kissed me--except last
summer when you were going away--and both of our hearts were pretty
full--"

"Wait," he said, suddenly exasperated, "are you trying to make me
understand that you haven't the slightest real emotion concerning
me--concerning me as a _man_--like other men?"

She looked at him, still confused and distressed, still determined he
should not misunderstand her:

"I don't know what you mean; truly I don't. I'm only trying to make you
believe that I am not guilty of thinking--wishing--of pretending that in
our frank companionship there lay concealed anything of--of deeper
significance--"

"Suppose--it were true?" he said.

"But it is _not_ true!" she retorted angrily--and looked up, caught his
gaze, and her breath failed her.

"Suppose it were true--for example," he repeated. "Suppose you did find
that you or I were capable of--deeper--"

"Louis! Louis! Do you realise what you are saying to me? Do you
understand what you are doing to the old order of things between us--to
the old confidences, the old content, the happiness, the--the innocence
of our life together? _Do_ you? Do you even _care_?"

"Care? Yes--I care."

"Because," she said, excitedly, "if it is to be--_that_ way with
you--I--I can not help you--be of use to you