"
"So I supposed," she murmured.
"There was a--a certain amount of trouble and difficulty about it--"
"And what did that mean?"
"It only meant that I had to work rather hard to put it right. I liked
it, so you needn't think anything of that. But if you persist in your
refusal all my hard work goes for nothing." He was so powerless
against her tender obstinacy that he had determined to appeal to her
tenderness alone. "There were about three years of it, the best three
years out of my life; and you are going to fling them away and make
them useless. All for a little wretched scruple. This is the only
argument that will appeal to you; or I wouldn't have mentioned it."
"The best years out of your life--why were they the best?"
"Because they were the first in which I was free."
She thought of the time nine years ago when she had taken from him
three days, the only days when he was free, and how she had tried to
make restitution and had failed. "And whatever else I refuse," she
said, "I've taken _them_? I can't get out of that?"
"No. If you want to be very cruel you can say I'd no business to lay
you under the obligation, but you can't get out of it."
She looked away. Did she want to be very cruel? Did she want to get
out of it? Might it not rather be happiness to be in it, immersed in
it? Lost in it, with all her scruples and all her pride?
His voice broke and trembled into passion. "And what is it that I'm
asking you to take? Something that isn't mine and _is_ yours;
something that it would be dishonourable of me to keep.
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