During this moment he leaned back on the bench, meeting her in silence and with a face that grew more strange. It grew so strange that after a further instant she got straight up. She stood there as if their talk were now over, and he just sat and watched her. It was as if now—owing to the third person they had brought in—they must be more careful; so that the most he could finally say was: “That’s where it is!”
“That’s where it is!” the girl as guardedly replied. He sat still, and she added: “I won’t give you up. Good-bye.”
“Good-bye?”—he appealed, but without moving.
“I don’t quite see my way, but I won’t give you up,” she repeated. “There. Good-bye.”
It brought him with a jerk to his feet, tossing away his cigarette. His poor face was flushed. “See here—see here!”
“No, I won’t; but I must leave you now,” she went on as if not hearing him.
“See here—see here!” He tried, from the bench, to take her hand again.
But that definitely settled it for her: this would, after all, be as bad as his asking her to supper. “You mustn’t come with me—no, no!”
He sank back, quite blank, as if she had pushed him. “I mayn’t see you home?”
“No, no; let me go.” He looked almost as if she had struck him, but she didn’t care; and the manner in which she spoke—it was literally as if she were angry—had the force of a command. “Stay where you are!”