'What, so soon?'
'I am going away in the carriage that brought us to this place yesterday.'
'Ah, well!—to the silver lead mine.'
'Yes.'
'What will be your address?'
'You will not need it.'
'Shall you soon return?'
'I do not know. Good-bye.'
They shook hands. Mirelle's lips trembled and her eyes filled. She bore Herring a sincere regard; she felt her deep indebtedness to him. She had treated him with great cruelty, and had caused him unspeakable suffering. This was a chilly separation. She felt inclined to say something better than 'good-bye'—that is, to say 'Stay.' But she could not do this.
They touched hands through the walls of ice that intervened, and that froze the word on her tongue.