Betty's blush was a flush now. She gathered up her drawing tilings; deliberately arranged the sheets of paper in the portfolio.
“I shall say good-by...
“Wait,” said Betty, rather shortly, not looking up “You mustn't go like this.”
There was a long silence. Then, abruptly, he broke out:
“There is no way that I can stay. I would bring you only trouble. And it will be easier for me to go. Of course, I should never have come. It has been very upsetting, I haven't faced it honestly. I wanted to forget you. I've been tortured. And then I learned that you were in danger. I—can't talk about it!” And he clamped his lips shut.
Betty opened her portfolio and slowly fingered the sheets of drawing paper. Her eyes filled; she had to keep them down.
“Where are you going?” Her voice was no more than a murmur. She said it again, a little louder: “Where are you going?”
“Back to the inn. And then, perhaps—”
“You mustn't leave T'ainan.”
“That is the difficulty. I couldn't save myself and leave you here.”