"You're going—you're going?" she wailed.
"Yes," he replied firmly.
She wept softly. Between her sobs she cried:
"And—and—you never thought that perhaps I'm frail, and weak, and a woman, and that now, maybe, I need your strength, and you might give it to me, and it might be better. I want to lean on you—lean on you, John. I know I need some one." Coaxingly she entreated him; in her tenderest, most seductive tones she made a last desperate effort to win him back. "Aren't you going to let me? Won't you give me another chance?" she pleaded tearfully.
He repelled her coldly.
"I gave you your chance, Laura," he replied.
"Give me another!" she cried, throwing her arms around his neck.
He struggled with her, disentangling himself from her frantic embrace. Pulling away, he said determinedly:
"You leaned the wrong way. Good-bye."
Going quickly to the door before she could again stop him, he opened the door and disappeared. An instant later she heard the outer corridor door slam. He was gone—forever!