“I am going,” he declared. “This will be good-bye. To-morrow I am going to British Columbia.”
The laughter faded for a moment from her face. She was suddenly serious.
“Don't go,” she begged. “Listen. I know I am not good like Beatrice, but I do like you—I always did. I suppose it is that wonderful truthfulness of yours. You are a different type from the men one meets. I am rather a reckless person. It is such a comfort sometimes to meet any one like you. You seem such an anchorage. Stay and talk to me for a little time. Take me out to-night. You asked me to go with you once, you know, and I would not. To-night it is I who ask you.”
He shook his head slowly.
“This is good-bye!” he said, firmly. “I suppose, after all, you were not unkind to me in those days, but you taught me a very bitter lesson. I came to you to-day in fear and trembling. I was afraid, perhaps, that the worst was not over, that there was more yet to come. Now I know that I am free.”
She stamped her foot.
“You shall not go away like that,” she declared.
He smiled.
“Do you think I do not understand?” he continued. “It is only because I am able to go, because the touch of your fingers, that look in your eyes, do not drive me half mad now, that you want me to stay. You would like to try your powers once more. I think not. I am satisfied that I am cured indeed, but perhaps it is safer to risk nothing.”
She pointed to the door.