She smiled faintly, looking up at his drawn face. "No, you wouldn't, you'd never do it,—when you thought of it, John,—because—I think you love me."
"That's what causes it—I mean elopements, isn't it?"
She shook her head. "No, because when a man really loves a woman he won't dishonor her."
"Well, that's why I've let you stay here. If it wasn't for that I'd have taken that—that fellow and thrown him in the river and carried you off. Rachel, I won't give you up!"
She slipped out of his arms again and made her way uncertainly back to her seat. "You've got to go over there now, John."
"To Astry's?" He glanced at the clock. "I've got ten minutes and I'm not sure I'll go at all."
She made a queer little gesture with her hands, as if she fought for breath, but he did not see it.
"You've got to go," she said gently, "because—because I can't have you here any longer. We're not in our senses to-night; we can't talk it over."
"You told me to go before, but what good did it do? We're no better off, we won't be any better off, until I make him give you up."
"I've set myself up to be good, I've made him think me so; he believes in me, but you—I see you don't, John."