Anyhow, she'd suffered through our family. I felt
sorry for her. I--I suppose I admired her. She's handsome--or people
think so. I can hardly tell how it came about, but I--asked her to marry
me, and she said yes. That was--late last winter--or the beginning of
spring. Then she had to go to Canada, where she'd been brought up--her
father died in England, a few months ago, and her mother, when she was a
child; but she had friends she wanted to see, before--before she
married. So she went, and I came to Algiers, to visit Nevill. Good
heavens, how banal it sounds! How--how different from the way I feel!
There aren't words--I don't see how to make you understand, without
being a cad. But I must tell you that I didn't love her, even at first.
It was a wish--a foolish, mistaken wish, I see now--and I saw long ago,
the moment it was too late--to make up for things. She was unhappy,
and--no, I give it up! I can't explain. But it doesn't change things
between us--you and me. I'm yours, body and soul. If you can forgive me
for--for trying to make you care, when I had no right--if, after knowing
the truth, you'll take me as I am, I----"
"Do you mean, you'd break off your engagement?"
Perhaps it was partly the effect of the green shadows, but the girl
looked very pale. Except for her eyes and hair, and the red rose that
was like a wound over her heart, there was no colour about her.
"Yes, I would. And I believe it would be right to break it," Stephen
said, forcefully.
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