"You don't—understand," breathed Dinah. "It never will be over—while I live. I'm hurt inside—inside."
"I know," he said again. "But it will get better presently. Isabel and I are going to take you away from it all."
"Oh no!" she said quickly. "No—no—no!" She lifted her head from his shoulder and turned her poor, stained face upwards. "I couldn't do that!" she said. "I couldn't! I couldn't!"
"Wait!" he said gently. "Let me do what I can to help you now—before we talk of that! Will you sit here quietly for a little, while I go and get you some milk from that farm down the road?"
"I don't want it," she said.
"But I want you to have it," he made grave reply. "You will stay here?
Promise me!"
"Very well," she assented miserably.
He got up. "I shan't be gone long. Sit quite still till I come back!"
He touched her dark head comfortingly and turned away.
When he had gone a little distance he looked back, and saw that she was crouched upon the ground again and crying with bitter, straining sobs that convulsed her as though they would rend her from head to foot. With tightened lips he hastened on his way.