"How could you be?"
"By insisting on engaging you as I did. From what you told me it's
very evident that you had something on your mind, and that the work
has been very dreadful, very difficult."
"I _have_ something on my mind and--it _has_ been difficult--all the
same--"
"I wouldn't have pressed you if I had really known. I'm very sorry. Is
it too late? Would it be any good if I released you now?"
If she released him!
"Miss Harden, you are most awfully good to me."
"_Would_ that help you?"
He looked at her. Over her face there ran again that little ripple of
thought and sympathy, like shadow and flame. One fear was removed from
him. Whatever happened Miss Harden would never misunderstand him. At
the same time he realized that any prospect, however calamitous, would
be more endurable than the course she now proposed.
"It wouldn't help me. The best thing I can do is to stay where I am
and finish."
"Is that the truth?"
"Nothing but the truth."
("But not the whole truth," thought Lucia.)
"Well," she said, rising, "whatever you do, don't lose heart."
He smiled drearily. It was all very well to say that, when his heart
was lost already.
"Wait--wait till next spring comes."
He could put what meaning he liked into that graceful little
commonplace. But it dismissed at the same time that it reassured him.
The very ease and delicacy with which it was done left him no doubt on
that point.
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