"Why did you ring the bell? Why didn't you walk away?"
"Why? I had come to see you, to be near you, to be with you."
"To force yourself on me."
"Yes."
"You know the meaning of the term 'effective occupation'? Having marched in, how could you have held your position, unless"—
"Oh, a man doesn't necessarily drive a woman away because he isn't in love with her."
"Yet that was what you thought I had done to you last night."
"Yes, but I didn't suppose you would take the trouble to do it again. And if you had, I should have only loved you the more. I thought you would most likely be rather amused, rather touched, by my importunity. I thought you would take a listless advantage, make a plaything of me—the diversion of a few idle hours in summer, and then, when you had tired of me, would cast me aside, forget me, break my heart. I desired nothing better than that. That is what I must have been vaguely hoping for. But I had no definite scheme. I wanted to be with you and I came to you. It seems years ago, now! How my heart beat as I waited on the doorstep! 'Is his Grace at home?' 'I don't know. I'll inquire. What name shall I say?' I saw in the girl's eyes that she, too, loved you. Have you seen that?"
