“You’re unhappy—like me,” she said softly.
“No,” said Edward. “No—it’s entirely different.”
“Oh, I understand!” she said.
She went on, about life, and how hard it is when you really feel things, and how alone you are, even in the midst of crowds. He tried not to listen, but he had to hear some of it, and it infuriated him.
“Very likely,” he said; “but I’d like to know your plans. What do you want me to do? Get you a cab, or what?”
She shrank back.
“Oh!” she said. “I see! You mean—I understand! You want to go. Leave me, then! Go! Why should you care what happens to me?”
“It’s after eleven,” was all that Edward answered.
There was a silence.
“Very well!” she said coldly. “I shall take the next train into the city.”