"You're sorry. You're sorry all the same."
"I'm sorry because there's so little time, Mary. Sorry I'm six years older than you…."
Nine o'clock.
She stood up. He turned to her. He made a queer sound. A sound like a deep, tearing sigh.
* * * * *
"If I were twenty I couldn't marry you, because of Mamma. That's one thing. You can't marry Mamma."
"We can talk about your mother afterwards."
"No. Now. There isn't any afterwards. There's only this minute that we're in. And perhaps the next…. You haven't thought what it'll be like. You can't leave London because of your work. I can't leave this place because of Mamma. She'd be miserable in London. I can't leave her. She hasn't anybody but me. I promised my brother I'd look after her…. She'd have to live with me."
"Why not?"
"You couldn't live with her."