In another instant he had thrown his arm round her, drawn her to him, and kissed her on the lips.

Then, abashed at what he had done, he let her go and picked up the cloak.
"Might I ask ?" began Mary in her usual sweet, low tones.

Then her voice broke, and her blue eyes filled with tears.
"I beg your pardon; I am a brute," began Morris, utterly abased by the sight of these tears, which glimmered like pearls in the moonlight, "but, of course, you know what I mean." Mary shook her head vacantly.

Apparently she could not trust herself to speak.
"Dear, will you take me ?" She made no answer; only, after pausing for some few seconds as though lost in thought, with a little action more eloquent than any speech, she leant herself ever so slightly towards him.
Afterwards, as she lay in his arms, words came to him readily enough: "I am not worth your having," he said.

"I know I am an odd fellow, not like other men; my very failings have not been the same as other men's.
For instance--before heaven it is true--you are the first woman whom I ever kissed, as I swear to you that you shall be the last.