"I don't want you to go on, Vio, if—"
"I've thought everything over," she declared in her imperious way, "and made up my mind that it was the only thing for me to do."
"Then you had thought that—that perhaps you—you couldn't."
She nodded slowly, without looking up.
"You'd made other—plans."
"It wasn't that so much; it was—it was thinking of you."
"Thinking of me—from what point of view?"
"From the point of view of—of what you've done." She glanced at me now, quickly, furtively, as if trying to spare me the pain of scrutiny. "Oh, Billy, I'm so sorry for—for my share in it."
"And what do you take your share to be?"
"The share of responsibility. When I urged you to go—"