“I don't know what to say.”
He knelt beside her.
“You dear child!” he murmured unsteadily, “can't you see what a trouble we're in? It's my fault—”
“It's no more your fault than mine.”
“Oh, but it is! I'm an experienced man. You're a girl. They're right in blaming me.”
“People can't help their feelings.”
“God, if they could! Don't you see, child, that I can't stay near you? I can't look at you—you're so little, so pretty, so charming! When I'm with you, all this feeling, all the warm feminine quality, all the beautiful magic that's been shut out of my life comes to me through you. It drives me crazy.... Betty, God forgive me! I can't help it—this once! It's good-by.” He took her lightly, reverently, in his arms, and brushed his lips against her forehead. Then he arose.
“Good-by, Betty!”
“It's too late to start to-day. You can't travel Chinese roads at night.”
“I'll start early in the morning.”