"I will never go back to Hampstead; I will throw myself into the sea first!"
"Don't talk rot, Maryska. You know I want to do the best I can for you."
"Is it the best to send me away when I love you?"
"I'm not sending you away; I'm only keeping you out of the reach of silly tongues."
"What do I care for them? What does it all matter if we love?"
"It won't matter for more than two or three days. After that, we'll go to Italy."
"Then I shall stay in Brighton by your side until the permit arrives. I will never go to Hampstead again, so help me God!"
"Oh, but you mustn't swear! Let's talk about it after lunch, dearest girl. I want just to look at you and see you happy. Do you know you're frightfully pretty, Maryska?"
She flushed with pleasure upon that. Many a man had called her pretty in the old days; but she shrank from their words then, knowing well what they meant.
"He used to say that it would be so, if ever I loved a man. I have been so lonely since he died, and that has made my face sad. Now it is different. I do not mean to be sad any more. I shall go to Italy, and we will laugh in the sun together. Cannot it be to-day, Harry? Here is the sea, and there are the ships. Let us take one and sail away! We can think of the priest in France, where there are many who will be glad of our money. Will you not please me, sauvage bête? Then take me upon the ship immediately."