"No, darling, no! Never in life! But—you must see—you must see"—her eyes filled with tears unexpectedly, and she laid her head upon his shoulder to hide them—"that I can't—live on you—for ever. It isn't fair—to you—or to Adela—or to—to—anyone else who might turn up."
"Ah!" he said. "Or to you either. We've no right to make a slave of you. I know that. Perhaps Adela hasn't altogether realized it."
"I've nothing—whatever—against Adela," Dot told him, rather shakily. "She has never been—other than kind. No, it is what I feel myself. I am not necessary to you or to Adela, and—in a way—I'm glad of it. I like to know you two are happy. I'm not a bit jealous, Jack, not a bit. It's just as it should be. But you'll have to let me go, dear. It's time I went. It's right that I should go. You mustn't try to hold me back."
But Jack's arms had tightened about her. "I hate the thought of it," he said. "Give it up! Give it up, old girl—for my sake!"
She shook her head silently in his embrace.
He went on with less assurance. "If you wanted to get married it would be a different thing. I would never stand in the way of your marrying a decent man. If you must go, why don't you do that?"
She laughed rather tremulously. "You think every good woman ought to marry, don't you, Jack?"
"When there's a good man waiting for her, why not?" said Jack.
She lifted her head and looked at him. "I'm not going to marry Fletcher Hill, Jack," she said, with firmness.
Jack made a slight movement of impatience. "I never could see your objection to the man," he said.