"I can't," she cried. "I should feel as if Maisie were there and looking at us…. Don't make me."
Suddenly he let her go.
He was beaten by the sheer weakness of her struggle. He couldn't fight for his flesh, like a brute, against that helplessness.
"If I go, you'll stay here till the rain stops?"
"Yes. I'm sorry, Jerry. You'll get so wet."
That made him laugh. And, laughing, he left her. Then tears came, cutting through his eyelids like blood from a dry wound. They mixed with the rain and blinded him.
And Anne sat on the little grey bed in her shelter and stared out at the rain and cried.
XIX
ANNE AND ELIOT
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