She nodded against his shoulder. "You ought not to love me like that.
It's too much. I'm not good enough."

"My little girl," he said, "I am not worthy to hold your hand in mine."

His hand was on her hair, stroking, fondling, caressing. She nestled
closer, without lifting her face.

"You don't know me in the least. I'm not a bit nice really. I get up to
all sorts of pranks. I'm wild and flighty. Ask Aunt Philippa if you want
to know."

"I know you better than Aunt Philippa, dear," he said.

"Oh no, you don't. You've only seen my good side. I'm always on my best
behaviour with you."

"Another excellent reason for marrying me," said Mordaunt.

"Oh, but I shan't be always. That's just it. You--you will be quite
shocked some day."

"I will take the risk," he said.

"I don't think you ought to," murmured Chris. "It doesn't seem quite
fair."

His hand pressed her head very gently. "Meaning that you don't love me?"
he said.