"I suppose it must be 'good-bye.'"...
She looked at him dreamily.
"Need it?"
He leapt to her side.
"Do you mean that you do not want me to go—that you would rather I stayed?"
"Much rather."
"And he?"
"He has ceased to exist for me!"
A torrent of hot blood seemed to burst from Yate's frozen brain, as watershoots from the glaciers in summer.
"God! have you given him up?"