“I will marry you,” she said, in a dead voice.  She felt cold, numb.  Her body seemed without sensation, but her mind was sharply clear.  She wanted to scream, but she held herself.

His face showed glad, relieved surprise.  The shine of his eyes accused her. ...  She was making capital of his love—­for a great and worthy purpose—­but none the less making capital of it.  She was sorry for him, bitterly sorry for herself.  He came forward eagerly, with arms outstretched to receive her, but she could not endure that—­now.  She could not endure his touch, his caress.

“Not now. ...  Not yet,” she said, holding up her hand as though to ward him off.  “You mustn’t.”

His face fell and he stopped short.  He was hurt—­surprised.  He did not understand, did not know what to make of her attitude.

“Wait,” she said, pitifully.  “Oh, be patient with me. ...  I will marry you.  I will be a good—­a faithful wife to you. ...  But you must be patient with me.  Let me have time. ...  Last night—­and all to-day-have been—­hard. ...  I’m not myself.  Can’t you see?...”

“Don’t you love me?” he asked.

“I—­I’ve said I would marry you,” she replied.  Then she could restrain herself no longer.  “But let it be soon—­soon,” she cried, and throwing herself on the sofa she burst into tears.

Bonbright did not know what to do.  He had never seen a woman cry so before. ...  Did girls always act this way when they became engaged?  Was it the usual thing, or was something wrong with Ruth?  He stood by, dumbly waiting, unhappy when he knew he should be happy; troubled when he knew there should be no cloud in his sky; vaguely apprehensive when he knew he should be looking into the future with eyes confident of finding only happiness there.

He wanted to pick her up and comfort her in his arms.  He could do it, he could hold her close and safe, for she was so small.  But he dared not touch her.  She had forbidden it; her manner had forbidden it more forcefully than her words.  He came closer, and his hand hovered over her hair, her hair that he would have loved to press with his lips-he, he did not dare.

“Ruth,” he said. ...  “Ruth!”

Suddenly she sat up and faced him; forced herself to speak; compelled herself to rise to this thing that she had done and must see through.

“I’m—­ashamed,” she said, irrepressible sobs interrupting her.  “It’s silly, isn’t it—­but—­but it’s hard to know.  It’s for so long—­so long!”

“Yes,” he said, “that’s the best part of it. ...  I shall have you always.”