‘You think I should go,’ she said suddenly and a little bitterly.
‘I cannot bid you stay,’ he answered steadily.
‘How can I go?’ she cried, appealing to him. ‘Must I go?’
How he could resist that appeal I could not understand. His face was cold and hard, and his voice was almost harsh as he replied—
‘If it is right, you will go—you must go.’
Then she burst forth—
‘I cannot go. I shall stay here. My work is here; my heart is here. How can I go? You thought it worth your while to stay here and work, why should not I?’
The momentary gleam in his eyes died out, and again he said coldly—
‘This work was clearly mine. I am needed here.’
‘Yes, yes!’ she cried, her voice full of pain; ‘you are needed, but there is no need of me.’