"I won't let you go, Harry. It is something that has come between us——"
"It has always been—between us——" he muttered.
She clung to him and held him as he moved toward the door.
"Nothing—nothing shall come between us. Nothing can. I don't care what it is. 'Until death us do part'—Don't you understand what that means, Harry?"
The repetition of his brother's name, the phrase from the marriage service, gave him resolution to avert his face from the piteous pleading in her eyes.
"It is because I understand what it means that I have—the courage to go—now—before you despise me."
"I have said that nothing makes any difference. I swear it. I love you, dear. There's some mistake. You'll never be different in my eyes, whatever happens—whatever has happened."
"Good-bye, Moira," he whispered, his hands clasping her arms.
"No, no. Not now—not to-night. I knew that to-day was too beautiful to last. You—you've frightened me. Don't go—please don't go."
"Yes," he said firmly. "I must."