"Not if it really made you happier."
"Happier?"
She smiled her pitiful, strained smile. It said, "Don't you see that it would kill me if you went?"
And again it was by her difference, her helplessness, that she had him.
He too smiled drearily.
"You don't suppose I really could have left you?"
He saw that it was impossible, unthinkable, that he should leave her.
He rose. She went with him to the door. She thought of something there.
"Steven," she said, "don't worry about to-night. It was all my fault."
"You—you," he murmured. "You're adorable."