Bulstrode was pitiless:
"One that has come lately to you?"
"Oh, yes!"
She was weeping more quietly now.
"Please leave me: please go, Mr. Bulstrode."
"A trouble with which I have had anything to do?"
She waited a long time, then faintly breathed:
"Yes."
The hand he firmly held was gloveless and cold—before he could say anything further she drew it away from him and cried:
"Oh, I ought never to have let you guess! You were so good and kind, you meant to help me so, but it's been the worst help of all, only you couldn't know that," she pleaded for him. "Please forgive me if I seem ungrateful, but if I had known that I was going to suffer like this I would have wished never to see you in the world."