"I could have helped making love to you."
She had a superb gesture. "Could you, though! When I wanted you to? What harm has it done?"
"So long as it hasn't harmed you——"
"It's helped me. That's why I can't bear to think of your going. I'm going to miss you so terribly!" There followed the little, slighting, boyish, devil-may-care hunch of the shoulders. "Not for long, though. I never do. I go crazy over someone and think he's the whole thing and I can't see anything in the world without him, and then, pouf! It's all over."
"So may it be with you now."
"You want it to be?"
"I don't want you to have the pain of missing me as I shall miss you. But I'm afraid you're going to feel it more than you think."
"Boasting!" she retorted, but there was no conviction in the word.
"No; I'm not boasting. But I've given you something, Pat, that you haven't had from your minor flirtations. Much that you won't readily forget. Nor do I want you to forget it all. But—I want it to drop into the background for you."