"Can't you think?"
"No, John. I've left off thinking. My thinking's never any use."
"If you did think you'd know it was you."
"Me?"
"If it wasn't you just at first it was your face. There are faces that do things to you, that hurt you when they're not there. Faces of people you don't know in the least. You see them once and they never let you alone till you've seen them again. They draw you after them, back and back. You'd commit any sin just to see them again once….
"… You've got that sort of face. When I saw you the first time—Do you remember? You came towards me over the field. You stopped and spoke to me."
"Supposing I hadn't?"
"It wouldn't have mattered. I'd have followed you just the same. Wherever you'd gone I'd have gone, too. I very nearly turned back then."
She remembered. She saw him standing in the road at the turn.
"I knew I had to see you again. But I waited two days to make sure. Then
I came …