“Perhaps not, but—I guess I'm beside myself.”
“Listen!” said she now: with a friendly, even sympathetic pressure of his trembling hands, “I'll tell you what I think. I think the thing for you to do is to go back to college.”
This stung him. “How can you talk like that,” he cried, “when—”
“I don' wan' to hurt you. But please try to think this as I wan' you to.”
“Haven't you any feeling for me?”
“Of course, an' I'm ver' grateful.”
“For God's sake, don't talk like that.”
There was a pause. He withdrew his hands; plunged his feverish face into them.
She rose, wearily. Said: “I'm going to try to sleep.”
“And you could go? Leaving it like this?”