“I’m so sorry about your wrist,” she said. “Does it pain you much?”
“Only when I forget and use it. Did you think I would come back again?” This with blunt directness.
She made him no answer.
“Do you know, I have been here every day since I saw you. I’ve spent the hours haunting the road through the woods and tramping these paths between the fields.”
“I have not been out of the house since then,” she answered.
“Why not?”
“Can’t you guess why?”
“Were you afraid you might see me?”
“I—I didn’t know.”
“Look here, dear,” he said, “you know I don’t want to persecute you. If you will only tell me truly that you don’t love me, I will go away at once and never see you again. But I believe that there is no other thing in life worth setting against love. It means my happiness and yours, and it would be cowardly for me to give you up for anything but your happiness. Can’t we reason a little about it?”