"You couldn't—love a—a cripple! It would not be love; it would be pity——"
He said slowly: "I wish that you were that lame girl. Then you'd understand me."
For a while she sat bolt upright, clasped hands tightening in her lap. Then, turning slowly toward him, she said:
"I am going to say good-night. . . . And thank you—for Diana's sake. . . . And I am going to say more—I am going to say good-bye."
"Good-bye! Where are you going?"
"To New York."
"When?"
"Before I see you again."
"There is no train until——"
"I shall drive to Moss Centre."