"Penelope, she is very young; and perhaps--perhaps she might meet----"
"It would make no difference. It wouldn't change it for me."
"You are cruel--cruel to yourself, if you love me, and cruel to me.
Don't you remember that night--before I spoke--you were talking of that
book; and you said it was foolish and wicked to do as that girl did.
Why is it different with you, except that you give me nothing, and can
never give me anything when you take yourself away? If it were anybody
else, I am sure you would say----"
"But it isn't anybody else, and that makes it impossible. Sometimes I
think it might be if I would only say so to myself, and then all that I
said to her about you comes up----"
"I will wait. It can't always come up. I won't urge you any longer
now. But you will see it differently--more clearly. Good-bye--no!
Good night! I shall come again to-morrow. It will surely come right,
and, whatever happens, you have done no wrong. Try to keep that in
mind. I am so happy, in spite of all!"
He tried to take her hand, but she put it behind her. "No, no! I can't
let you--yet!"