"You asked me that the other night. Was what I said then, not answer enough?—And besides, in these last four days, since I have been alone, I've learnt just how much I shall miss you, Maurice. It's my punishment, I suppose, for growing so dependent on anyone."
"You must go away, too. You can't stay here by yourself. We must both go, in opposite directions, and begin afresh."
She did not reply at once. "I shouldn't know where to go," she said, after a time. "Will nothing else do, Maurice? Is there no other way?—Oh, why can't we go on being friends, as we were!"
He shook his head. "I've struggled against it so long—you don't know. I've never really been your friend—only I couldn't hurt you before, by telling you. And it has worn me out; I'm good for nothing. Louise!—think, just once more—ask yourself, once more, if it's quite impossible, before you send me into the outer darkness."
She was silent.
"I don't ask you to love me," he went on, in a low voice. "I've come down from that, in these wretched days. I would be content with less, much less. I only ask you to let yourself be loved—as I could love you. If only you could say you liked me a little, all the rest would come, I'm confident of it. In time, I should make you love me. For I would take, oh, such care of you! I want to make you happy, only to make you happy. I've no other wish than to show you what happiness is."
"It sounds so good ... you are good, Maurice. But the future—tell me, have thought of the future?"
"I should think I have.—Do you suppose it means nothing to me to be so despicably poor as I am? To have absolutely nothing to offer you?"
She took his hand. "That's not what I mean. And you know it. Come, let us talk sensibly this afternoon, and look things straight in the face.—You want to marry me, you say, and let the rest come? That is very, very good of you, and I shall never forget it.—But what does it mean, Maurice? You have been here a little over a year now, haven't you?—and still have about a year to stay. When that's over, you will go back to England. You will settle in some small place, and spend your life, or the best part of your life, there—oh, Maurice, you are my kind friend, but I tell you frankly, I couldn't face life in an English provincial town. I'm not brave enough for that."
He gleaned a ray of hope from her words. "We could live here—anywhere you liked. I would make it possible. I swear I would."