"Oh you are lucky!" she exclaimed involuntarily.
"Lucky? Why?"
"You've so much to give. I've nothing."
He was extraordinarily touched by her humility. He wanted to take her arm, but he did not like to do so. They turned another corner, and were in her street.
"Don't say that," he said. "You've yourself—give that. No one can give more."
"I'm not sure," she said, with a nervous catch in her voice, "that I can give that."
"Why not?" he asked.
She did not reply directly. "I wonder what you will be like after a term at Cambridge," she said, inconsequently.
"It won't change me at all," said Paul.
The girl made little stabs with her umbrella at the pavement. "It will," she said. "I wonder if you'll come back the least bit the same. Oh, I know! You'll have new friends and new interests, and you'll think us all just a little cheap. You'll go away in the holidays, abroad very likely, and even our country won't seem the same to you."