As she looked at him she saw that he had grown thinner since she had last seen him, and that his eyes shone with an unnatural lustre.
"What is there for me to say?" he returned, arresting her wavering glance.
Her lips quivered.
"I may go away," she said, "and this is the last chance. There is something I must tell you. Will you turn and walk back with me?"
He shook his head.
"What is the use?" he asked, impatiently. "There is nothing to be said that cannot better be left—unsaid."
"No! No!" she said. "You must not think worse of me than—than I deserve."
He was smiling bitterly.
"What I think of you," he returned, "matters very little." Then the smile passed, and he looked at her gravely. "I have little time," he said. "My days are not my own." And he added, slowly: "If you wish it, I will walk back with you for a short distance."
"Thank you," she replied, and they passed the clump of pines on their way in the park.