“Edwin,” she said, “folks are beginning to talk about us.”
“About us, Mary? What are they saying?”
She took a sudden interest in the toe of her shoe.
“Can’t you guess?” she said, softly.
“Yes,” he said, “I can guess. But, oh, Mary, I’m afraid that there are some dreams that can never come true.”
“I don’t understand, Edwin.”
“Mary, I must go away from here.”
“From Granville? From . . . from me?”
He nodded. She searched his face with her ardent eyes.
“Then,” she said, “you do not . . . care?”