“I don’t see it matters whether they’ve given up or not. They’d be just as glad to see you, once you’d got across.”
“It would matter,” Mattie said. “Something’d have gone ... broken ... nay, I can’t explain!” She stopped, hunting vainly for words with which to convey to him that the motive power would be crippled, the circuit hopelessly snapped.... “But it wouldn’t be the same.”
He gazed at her with his clear, faded eyes, wondering to himself how far it was wise to attempt to argue with her.
“You’ll not take kindly to stopping, Mattie,” he said presently, tentatively but bravely. “You’ve got to remember that.”
“I’m not likely to forget it.”
“It isn’t as if you wouldn’t feel different in the morning, you know. You’re tired, to-night. You’ll get hankering again, I doubt, as soon as you’re rested.”
“I doubt I will.”
“Folks don’t change that easy,” Kirkby persisted. “You’ve been set on Canada so long, you’ll find it hard to put away from you.”
“I’ve got to try.”
“There’ll be letters coming an’ all——” he continued firmly, and she put out her hand, crying, “Nay, now! Don’t, don’t!” but he steeled himself against her. However it hurt, they had both of them got to be sure that she knew what she was doing.