"Are you not mine?"

"You must not kiss me."

Wilfrid loosened her waist, and became in a minute outwardly most cool
and courteous.

"My successor may object. I am bound to consider him. Pardon me.
Once!--"

The wretched insult and silly emphasis passed harmlessly from her: but a
word had led her thoughts to Merthyr's face, and what is meant by the
phrase 'keeping oneself pure,' stood clearly in Emilia's mind. She had
not winced; and therefore Wilfrid judged that his shot had missed because
there was no mark. With his eye upon her sideways, showing its circle
wide as a parrot's, he asked her one of those questions that lovers
sometimes permit between themselves. "Has another--?" It is here as it
was uttered. Eye-speech finished the sentence.

Rapidly a train of thought was started in Emilia, and she came to this
conclusion, aloud: "Then I love nobody!" For the had never kissed
Merthyr, or wished for his kiss.

"You do not?" said Wilfrid, after a silence. "You are generous in being
candid."

A pressure of intensest sorrow bowed his head. The real feeling in him
stole to Emilia like a subtle flame.