"I can. I've booked my passage."
His face was suddenly sallow white, ghastly. His heart heaved and he felt sick.
"Nothing on earth will stop me."
"Won't Maisie stop you? If you do this she'll know. Can't you see how it gives us away?"
"No. It'll only give me away. If Maisie asks me why I'm going I shall tell her I'm in love with you, and that I can't stand it; that I'm too unhappy. I'd rather she thought I cared for you than that she should think you cared for me."
"She'll think it all the same."
"Then I shall have to lie. I must risk it…. Oh Jerry, don't look so awful! I've got to go. We've settled it that we can't go on deceiving her, and we aren't going to make her unhappy. There's nothing else to be done."
"Except to bear it."
"And how long do you suppose that'll last? We can't bear it. Look at it straight. It's all so horribly simple. If we were beasts and only thought of ourselves and didn't think of Maisie it wouldn't matter to us what we did. But we can't be beasts. We can't lie to Maisie, and we can't tell her the truth. We can't go on seeing each other without wanting each other—unbearably—and we can't go on wanting each other without—some day—giving in. It comes back the first minute we're alone. And we don't mean to give in. So we mustn't see each other, that's all. Can you tell me one other thing I can do?"
"But why should it be you? Why should you get the worst of it?"