"Our life. Yours and mine. Are you going to begin again like that?"
"Does it rest with me?"
"Yes. It rests with you, I think. You say we must make the best of it. What is your notion of the best?"
"I don't know, Walter."
"I must know. You say you'll take me back—you'll never leave me. What are you taking me back to? Not to that old misery? It wasn't only bad for me, dear. It was bad for both of us."
She sighed, and her sigh shuddered to a sob in her throat. The sound went to his heart and stirred in it a passion of pity.
"God knows," he said, "I'd live with you on any terms. And I'll keep straight. You needn't be afraid. Only—See here. There's no reason why you shouldn't take me back. I wouldn't ask you to if I'd left off caring for you. But it wasn't there I went wrong. I can't explain about Maggie. You wouldn't understand. But, if you'd only try to, we might get along. There's nothing that I won't do for you to make up—"
"You can do nothing. There are things that cannot be made up for."
"I know—I know. But still—we mightn't be so unhappy—perhaps, in time—And if we had children—"
"Never," she cried sharply, "never!"