"You will forget her by to-morrow. Ley, let me look at you!"
He turned his face to her, and she looked straight into his eyes, then she put her arm round his neck.
"Oh, Ley! has it come at last?"
"What do you mean?" he asked, not angrily, but with a touch of grimness, as if he were afraid of the answer.
"Ley," she said, "you must not see her again. Ley, you will go to-morrow, will you not?"
"Why?" he asked. "It is not like you to send me away, Lil."
"No, but I do. I who look forward to seeing you as the sweetest thing in my life—I who would rather have you near me than be—other than I am—I who lie and wait and listen for your footsteps—I send you, Ley. Think! You must go, Ley. Go at once, for your own sake and for hers."
He rose, and smiled down at her.
"For my sake, perhaps, but not for hers. You foolish girl, do you think all your sex is as partial as you are? You did not see her as I saw her to-night—did not hear her ready wit at my expense. For her sake! You make me smile, Lil."