Her lips quivered, and tears welled through her lashes.
"Forgive me! ...

oh, forgive!" she murmured, pleadingly--"I am sorry!..." "So you ought to be!" he retorted--"You--Manella--imagine yourself in love with me ...

yes, you do!--and you cannot leave me alone! No amorous man ever cadged round for love as much or as shamelessly as an amorous woman! Then you see another woman on the scene, and though she's nothing but a stray visitor at the Plaza where you help wash up the plates and dishes, you suddenly conceive a lot of romantic foolery in your head and imagine me to be mysteriously connected with her! Oh, for God's sake don't cry! It's the most awful bore! There's nothing to cry for.

You've set me up like a sort of doll in a shrine and you want to worship me--well!--I simply won't be worshipped.

As for your 'little wonderful white woman sweetly perfumed like a rose,' I don't mind saying that I know her.