He swore under his breath and struggled for speech.
"And--and the man Stafford ?" he said.

"He--he has not said--D--n it! you don't mean to tell me that he is absolutely indifferent, that he--he doesn't care ?" "I'll tell you the truth," she said.

"I swore to myself that I would.
There is too much at stake for me to conceal anything.

He does--not--care for me." Ralph Falconer uttered a sharp snarl of shame and resentment.
"He doesn't?
and yet you--you want to marry him!" She made a gesture with her hands which was more eloquent than words.
"Perhaps--perhaps there is someone else?
Someone of the other women here ?" he suggested, moodily.
"Yes, there is someone else," she said, with the same calm decision.
"No, it is not one of the women here; it is a girl in the place; a farmer's daughter, I think.

It is only a _liaison_, a vulgar intrigue--" He uttered an exclamation.
"And yet _that_ doesn't cure you!" She shook her head and smiled.
"No; my case is incurable.