"I don't think you had better say such a thing----"

"I know I had better not. But it is said, and it is true. I'm not
trying to explain it to you or to myself. It's just true. There
has not been one moment, since I saw you, which has been free from
memory of you----"

"Please----"

"I scarcely know what I am saying--but it's true!" He checked
himself. "I'm losing my head now, which isn't like me!" He choked
and stood up; she could not move; every nerve in her had become
tense with emotions so bewildering that mind and body remained
fettered.

He was walking to and fro, silent and white under his self-control.
She, seated, gazed at him as though stunned, but every pulse was
riotously unsteady.

"I suppose you think me crazy," he said hoarsely, "but I've not
known a moment's peace of mind since that night--not one! I
_couldn't_ keep away any longer. I can't even hold my tongue now,
though I suppose it's ruining me every time I move it. It's a
crazy thing to come here and say what I'm saying."

He went over and sat down again, and bent his dark gaze on the
floor. Then:

"Can you forgive what I have done to you?"