“Hephzy,” said I, “I am not going to London. I have been thinking, and I'm not going.”
Hephzy put down the tray she was carrying. She did seem surprised, but I am sure she was relieved.
“You're not goin'!” she exclaimed. “Why, Hosy!”
“No, I am not going. I've been crazy, Hephzy, I think, but I am fairly sane now. I have reached the conclusion that you reached sometime ago, I am certain. We have no right to follow her. Our finding her would only make it harder for her and no good could come of it. She went, of her own accord, and we must let her go.”
“Let her go? And not try—”
“No. We have no right to try. You know it as well as I do. Now, be honest, won't you?”
Hephzy hesitated.
“Why,” she faltered; “well, I—Oh, Hosy, I guess likely you're right. At first I was all for goin' after her right away and bringin' her back by main strength, if I had to. But the more I thought of it the more I—I—”
“Of course,” I interrupted. “It is the only thing we can do. You must have been ashamed of me this morning. Well, I'll try and give you no cause to be ashamed again. That part of our lives is over. Now we'll start afresh.”
Hephzy, after a long look at my face, covered her own with her hands and began to cry. I stepped to her side, but she recovered almost immediately.