Dazedly Stewart looked at her—at her eyes dark with sadness, at her face suddenly so white——
She was standing near the window, her hand upon the curtain.
“Good-by, my friend,” she repeated. “You have been very good to me!”
For an instant longer, Stewart stood staring—then he sprang at her, seized her——
“Do you mean that you are going to leave me?” he demanded, roughly.
“Surely that is what you wish!”
“What I wish? No, no! What do I care—what does it matter!” The words were pouring incoherently from his trembling lips. “I understand—you were desperate—you didn’t know me; even if you had, it would make no difference. Don’t you understand—nothing can make any difference now!”
She shivered a little; then she drew away, looking at him.
“You mean,” she stammered; “you mean that you still—that you still——”
“Little comrade!” he said, and held out his arms.