Say that you'll marry me.

.

.

I'd teach you the rest--you'd learn to love me." But that fierce, unpremeditated kiss--the first lover's kiss that she had known--had endowed her with a sudden clarity of vision.
"No," she answered steadily.

"I don't know much about love, Tim, but I'm very sure it's no use trying to manufacture it to order, and--listen, Tim, dear," the pain in his face making her suddenly all tenderness again--"if I married you, and afterwards you _couldn't_ teach me as you think you could, we should only be wretched together." "I could never be wretched if you were my wife," he answered doggedly.
"I've love enough for two." She shook her head.
"No, Tim.