She let herself be dragged along and turned down the lonely, green road. She seemed to surrender feebly to his wishes; and she became aware that she was in a profound state of melancholy, a hesitation of not knowing things, of wavering, of feeling unhappy.
"Everything could have been so different," she said, almost crying.
"What do you mean? When?"
"If Addie...."
"If he what?"
"I don't know," she said. "I'm tired of thinking about it. It is not his fault."
"No, it's your fault."
"My fault?"
"Yes! Nothing would keep you from marrying him.... And I loved you."
"You? But you never asked me!"