I said, 'You have me.'" "Ah, you give in to that which won't hurt you--" "Wouldn't you hurt me ?" he asked in a softening tone.
"You only play with words," she answered with sudden gravity.

"Hurt you?
I owe you what I can not pay back.

I owe you my life; but as nothing can be given in exchange for a life, I cannot pay you." "But like may be given for like," he rejoined in a tone suddenly full of meaning.
"Again you are playing with words--and with me," she answered brusquely, and a little light of anger dawned in her eyes.

Did he think that he could say a thing of that sort to her--when he pleased?
Did he think that because he had done her a great service, he could say casually what belonged only to the sacred moments of existence?
She looked at him with rising indignation, but there suddenly came to her the conviction that he had not spoken with affronting gallantry, but that for him the moment had a gravity not to be marred by the place or the circumstance.
"I beg your pardon if I spoke hastily," he answered presently.

"Yet there's many a true word spoken in jest." There was a moment's silence.