He talked so calmly, in such an easy tone, it was impossible that he could be making love.

She remembered the vibrations in his voice when, a month ago, he had told her his story.
She remembered the inflection of the passionate cry he had uttered when he had seen the shadow of Beatrice stealing between them, she knew the ring of his speech when he loved, for she had heard it.

It was not there now.

And yet, the effort not to believe would have been too great for her strength.
"Nothing that you could say would be--" she stopped herself--"would pain me," she added, desperately, in the attempt to complete the sentence.
He looked somewhat surprised, and then smiled.
"No.

I shall never say anything, nor do anything, which could give you pain.