"Aren't you happy, dear?" she said.
"How can you ask that?"
"I'm sorry," she said simply. "And Edith?"
"I don't know. I don't know anything about her. I try to be kind and nice to her. In fact I am."
A wretched, quivering smile broke out on the girl's face.
"Conceit!" she said. "I'm glad we have met, Edward, for we had to get this over, you know. Well, it's over."
They stood in silence a moment. Then suddenly he broke out—
"Why wouldn't you trust your own heart, Elizabeth, and let me trust mine? What good has come of it all? What has come of it but wretchedness? I don't ask if you are happy. I know you aren't."
"No. But you kept faith. That good has come of it. Don't say those things. It isn't the best of you that says them. And what are you doing here?"
"I often walk this way," he said. "Then I go up Oakley Street. The evenings are getting light now. Do you mind my doing that?"