"But I am not so good as you think," murmured Heathcote, leaning his head against her. His hands, still holding hers, were growing cold.
"But you are brave. And you shall be true. Go back to Helen, and try to do what is right, as I also shall try."
"But you—that is different. You do not care."
"Not care!" she repeated, and her voice quivered and broke. "You know that is false."
"It is. Forgive me."
"Promise me that you will go back; promise for my sake, Ward. Light words are often spoken about a broken heart; but I think, if you fail me now, my heart will break indeed."
"What must I do?"
"Go back to Helen—to your life, whatever it is."
"And shall I see you again?"
"No."