"You talk of hurts! You,
who set out deliberately and maliciously to make me
suffer! How dare you then talk to me like this! You
stab with a hundred knives--you, who know how I--"
"I'm sorry," I put in, contritely. "Please don't be
so dreadful about it. After all, you asked me, didn't
you? Perhaps I've hurt your vanity. There, I didn't
mean that, either. Oh, dear, let's talk about something
impersonal. We get along wretchedly of late."
The angry red ebbed away from Von Gerhard's face.
The blaze of wrath in his eyes gave way to a deeper,
brighter light that held me fascinated, and there came to
his lips a smile of rare sweetness. The hand that had
grasped my shoulder slipped down, down, until it met my
hand and gripped it.
"Na, 's ist schon recht, Kindchen. Those that we
most care for we would hurt always. When I have told you
of my love for you, although already you know it, then
you will tell me. Hush! Do not deny this thing. There
shall be no more lies between us. There shall be only
the truth, and no more about plump, blonde German wives
who run with Zeitung and slippers. After all, it is no
secret. Three months ago I told Norah. It was not news
to her.
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