“And is it because we are about to part, Charles, that it must be in anger?” said she; and her voice faltered and her lip trembled. “Of all your faults, Charles, selfishness was not one, long ago.”
“No matter what I was long ago; we have both lived to see great changes in ourselves.”
“Come, let us be friends,” said she, taking his hand cordially. “I know not how it is with you, but never in my life did I need a friend so much.”
“Oh, May, how can I serve you?”
“First read that letter, Charles. Sit down there and read it through, and I 'll come back to you by the time you 've finished it.”
With a sort of dogged determination to sacrifice himself, no matter at what cost, Charles Heathcote took the letter from her, and turned away into another alley of the garden.
