He was suddenly quite serious, mocking no more at life and death.
"For your sake, my angel; for your happiness. I beseech you, let it all be ended. Let me feel that I no longer need make you wretched. You may yet be happy; but I—I feel that everything in me hinders my ever being happy, and all happiness must begin in ourselves alone."
"And do you think I shall let you go now, that you have just told me what you would do in the evening?"
"But you are not to think that I should do it only for your sake. I always go about with that in my pocket. I have often thought of doing it; but then I have thought of you, and I lacked courage; for I know that you love me only too well."
"Not too well. I have lived in you. But for you I should never have truly lived."
"But for me you might have lived with another, and have been happy."
"No. Never with any other. That could never have been. I had to live with you. It was Fatality."
"Ay, Fatality. Bertie used to say—"
"Do not mention Bertie."
As she spoke the rain dashed against the window panes in a perfect torrent.