Thank you.

I cannot imagine that he could tell me anything worse than I have already heard." "Perhaps he may," Aurora answered very gravely.
Then she was silent, and Marcello could not help looking at her as she leaned back in the corner of the sofa.

Of all things, at that moment, he dreaded lest he should lose command of himself under the unexpected influence of her beauty, of old memories, of the failing light, of the tender shadows that still lingered under her eyes, of that exquisite small hand that lay idly on the sofa beside her, just within his reach.
He rose abruptly, no longer trusting himself.
"I must be going," he said.
"Already?
Why ?" She looked up at him and their eyes met.
"Because I cannot be alone with you any longer.

I do not trust myself." "Yes, you do.

You are a man now, and I trust you." He had spoken roughly and harshly in his momentary self-contempt, but her words were clear and quiet, and rang true.