She bit her lip. She said nothing.
"I can't do any more—can I?"
"No," she confessed.
"Then, what's the matter?"
"The matter is that——"
"What?"
"You show me more plainly every minute that I ought to go."
Something in the dumbness with which the announcement was received told her how unexpected it had been. And, indeed, to hear that his love, unperceived by himself, had been fighting against him was the hardest thing that he had had to bear. Sensible that every remonstrance that escaped him would estrang them further, the man felt helpless. They were crossing the churchyard now, and she said something about the impracticability of her going any further.
"Well, as you'll come oftener, our talk hasn't been useless!"
"Wait a second," he said. He paused by the porch, and looked at her. "I can't leave you like this. Mary——!"