"Cale, when does the next afternoon train leave the junction—the one that connects with the Southern Quebec for New England?"
"Don't, Marcia, in the name of all that's holy, don't do nothing rash. I meant it for the best—"
"I know you did; but that won't prevent my going."
"But, hear to reason, Marcia; wait till Ewart comes—-hear what he has to say—I 'm placed where I can't speak. Wait a few days."
His hand felt clammy cold under mine. I pulled mine away. I hurt him, but I did not care.
"There is nothing to be said. I am going. When does that train leave?"
"Seven-five. What will Ewart say? You are doing him a bitterer wrong than your mother before you."
I laughed in his face. His voice grew husky as he spoke again:
"Stay for my sake then, Marcia; just five days—I 'm as nigh ter you as any in this world."
"Not so very, Cale."