“Yes, I am going away. I—I thought you’d like me just to say good-bye.”
“Well, I should hope so, indeed. After what you’ve done for me.”
“Never mind about that, please. I think I must be off.”
I rose; but she paid no heed, just sitting on at the table, her face averted and her fingers moving the books restlessly. I looked out of the window, fidgetted a moment, and then turned again.
“Yes, I think it’s time.”
“Of course I won’t keep you,” she said then; very stiffly and without looking at me.
“Good-bye then.”
She rose and held out her hand. “Good-bye.” She turned her face to me and her lip quivered as she bit it. I recalled the priest’s words about her betrothal; and clamped down my feelings as I took her hand and pressed it.
“I wish you God-speed with all my heart,” I said.
She lowered her eyes again and her hand fell listlessly as I released it and turned to the door. I had nearly reached it when I heard the rustle of her cotton dress and turned to find her at my elbow.