He admired her beauty--nay, he went further; he thought her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, the most gifted, the most graceful.

But he was not in love with her--never would be.

She was not his type of woman, not his ideal.

If she had been his sister, he would have loved her exceedingly--a brotherly affection was what he felt for her.
Yet how could he go to this fair woman with the ungracious words that he did not love her, and had no thought of marrying her?
His face flushed hotly at the thought--there was something in it against which his whole manhood rose in hot rebellion Still it must be done; there must be no such shadow between them as this--there must be no such fatal mistake.
If the report of their approaching marriage were allowed to remain much longer uncontradicted, why, then he would be in honor compelled to fulfill public expectations; and this he had no intention, no desire to do.

The only thing therefore was to speak plainly to her.
How he hated the thought! How he loathed the idea! It seemed to him unmanly, most ignoble--and yet there was no help for it.