"But would you, if you could?"
He did not answer.
"Of course you wouldn't," she said. "I know you as I know myself."
"What is the use of thinking of what can never be!" he said impatiently.
"Just so. That is what I say. I can never give you my hand; so give me yours and we'll turn homewards."
He gave her his hand and she jumped lightly to her feet. Then he got up and shook himself, and looked still in a sort of daze, at the gentle face and the dainty figure.
He seized her passionately by the arms.
"And must this be the end?" he cried hoarsely.
"Finis," she said decisively, though the renewed pallor of her face showed what it cost her to complete the idyl.
"An unhappy ending?" he said in hopeless interrogation.