He picked up his hat,—she noticed it was a silk tile, and thought vaguely how incongruous it looked upon him, though she was used to little else among the students,—and jammed it absently down on his head, as he was accustomed to fasten on his tarpaulin during a storm.
"Good-by" he said hoarsely, turning towards the door.
She stepped towards him.
"Jasper, wait!"
He obeyed—but reluctantly.
"I beg of you, don't let this make you feel hard towards us all. I have depended on your goodness all my life—don't let it fail me now!"
She held out her hand with that look which few could resist, a look of winning trustfulness words cannot describe. Jasper hesitated, turned, looked into her face—and yielded.
"Sairay," he said, grasping her hand closely, "it's no use; you always did have your way, and you always will! I'll be anything to you that you want me to be, but—it's bitter hard luck!" and, wringing her hand till it ached, he left her.