"Why haven't you gone?" he said heavily. "I asked you to go."
"I'm not going, Jim," she returned. "I can't leave you like this. You're not fit to be left."
His face darkened again.
"I am perfectly fit to be left," he said hardly. "And I wish to be alone."
"When you are better, I'll go," she said quietly—"if you want me to."
He made a gesture of impatience.
"I am better now," he said wearily. "I am quite well. I want you to go. Why do you persist in staying when I want you to go?"
The girl's self-control deserted her. She burst into a storm of weeping.
"I won't go," she sobbed. "I won't go—because you are in trouble—and I love you. I don't care whether you want me or not. I love you."
He heard her indifferently. Neither her tears nor her passion moved him.