"Knowing that I can only give you friendship?
I wish--I wish I could give you what you ask--but I can't." Tim's eyes searched hers for a long moment.
"Is there some one else ?" he asked at last.
A wave of painful colour flooded her face, then ebbed away, leaving it curiously white and pinched-looking, but her eyes still met his bravely.
"There is--no one who will ever want your place, Tim," she said with an effort.
The sight of her evident distress hurt him intolerably.
"Forgive me!" he exclaimed quickly.

"I had no right to ask that question." "Yes, you had," she replied steadily, "since you have asked me to be your wife." "Well, you've answered it--and it doesn't make a bit of difference.
I want you.

I'll take what you can give me, Sara.

Perhaps, some day, you'll be able to give me love as well." She shook her head.
"Don't count on that, Tim.

Friendship, understanding, the comradeship which, after all, can mean a good deal between a man and woman--all these I can give you.