Thinking that she was relenting, by instinct, rather than from any
teaching of experience, he attempted to take her hand. With a turn of
the arm, so quick that even Elizabeth watching with all her eyes saw
nothing of the movement, Beatrice twisted herself free.
"Don't touch me," she said sharply, "you have no right to touch me. I
have answered you, Mr. Davies."
Owen withdrew his hand abashed, and for a moment sat still, his chin
resting on his breast, a very picture of despair. Nothing indeed could
break the stolid calm of his features, but the violence of his emotion
was evident in the quick shivering of his limbs and his short deep
breaths.
"Can you give me no hope?" he said at last in a slow heavy voice. "For
God's sake think before you answer--you don't know what it means to me.
It is nothing to you--you cannot feel. I feel, and your words cut like
a knife. I know that I am heavy and stupid, but I feel as though you had
killed me. You are heartless, quite heartless."
Again Beatrice softened a little. She was touched and flattered. Where
is the woman who would not have been?
"What can I say to you, Mr.
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