Have I done anything to annoy you?"
"You? Why, no, not that I remember."
"Then, please, before we go off, be friendly with me again."
"I am afraid I am not of a very hilarious temperament."
"Still, you manage to talk to others."
"Have you cared very much who talked to you lately?"
Her cheek changed color in the starlight.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Anything or nothing."
Ruth looked at him haughtily.
"If nothing," he continued, observing her askance from lowered lids, "what
I am about to say will be harmless. If anything, I still hope you will
find it pardonable."
"What are you about to say?"
"It won't take long. Will you be my wife?"
And the stars still shone up in heaven!
Her face turned white as a Niphetos rose.
"Louis," she said finally and speaking with difficulty, "why do you ask me
this?"
"Why does any man ask a woman to be his wife?"
"Generally because he loves her."
"Well?"
If he had spoken outright, she might have answered him; but the simple
monosyllable, implying a world of restrained avowal, confronted her like a
wall, before which she stood silent.
"Answer me, Ruth."
"If you mean it, Louis, I am very, very sorry."
"Why?"
"Because I can never be your wife.
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