..!"
The old possibility of frank talk between them was gone. She couldn't
complete the sentence.
"So I guess," she concluded after a silence, "that the only thing for
you to do is to go home and forget about me as well as you can and be as
little miserable about me as possible. I'll tell you this, that may make
it a little easier: you're not to think of me as starving or miserable,
or even uncomfortable for want of money. I'm earning plenty to live on,
and I've got over two hundred dollars in the bank. So, on that score at
least, you needn't worry."
There was a long silence while he sat there twisting the newspaper in
his hands, his eyes downcast, his face dull with the look of defeat that
had settled over it.
In the security of his averted gaze, she took a long look at him. Then,
with a wrench, she looked away.
"You will let me go now, won't you?" she asked. "This is--hard for us
both, and it isn't getting us anywhere. And--and I've got to ask you not
to come back. Because it's impossible, I guess, for you to see the thing
my way.
Pages:
756
757
758
759
760
761
762
763
764
765
766
767
768
769
770
771
772
773
774
775
776
777
778
779
780