"Useless!" she said, triumphing sadly.
"Though you love me."
"Though I love you."
"It's enough to make a man curse goodness, Margaret; remember that."
"No, no."
"Oh, these good people!" He threw his arm out unconsciously with a force that would have laid prostrate any one within its reach. "You are an exception—you are going to suffer; but generally these good people, who are so hard in their judgment of such things,—they have never suffered themselves in the least from any of this pain; they have had all they wish—in the way of love and home, and yet they are always the hardest upon those who, like me, like you, have nothing—who are parched and lonely and starved. They would never do so—oh no! they are too good. All I can say is, let them try it! Margaret"—here he came back to her—"think of the dreariness of it; leaving everything else aside, just think of that. We are excited now; but, when this is over, think of the long days and years without anything to brighten them, anything we really care for. That breaks down the best courage at last, to have nothing one really cares for."
She did not answer.
"I could make you so happy!" he pleaded.
Her face remained unmoved.
"I long for you so!" he went on; "without you, I don't know where to turn or what to do." He said it as simply as a boy.