'They were well when I saw them, but I've not seen them lately. We've been in great trouble.'
'Yes. I saw in the papers. I was so sorry.'
'Then you read the papers?'
'I always try to see a weekly paper,' she said a little confusedly. 'Then you don't know how they are at home?'
'I only know they're grieving after you still.'
'They know I'm not dead. I let them know that, and I should think that's all they care to know.'
'You know better than that. My dear child, why not go home to them? I believe the misery you have cost them—forgive me for saying it—will shorten their lives unless you do go back.'
'Go back? No! I've sowed and I must reap. I must go through with it. I live just down here. Good-night.'
It did not look a very inviting residence—a narrow street, leading into a court which was too dark and too distant to be seen into from the corner where she had stopped.
'I sha'n't say good-night till you say when I shall see you again.'