“If you go I shall never see you again. Something will happen. I shall be driven into something dreadful. I shall be at papa's mercy, and I haven't any strength of character. He can do what he likes when you are gone, and I shall give in. I always do.”
Her whole attitude was one of weak complaint. It was fast forcing Philip to the verge of madness. As if she divined what his thoughts were, she said: “You don't respect me. You think I don't amount to anything.”
“I love you!” he said gravely. “And now I must go.”
“You are not going!—not yet!—not yet!”
“I shall write you every day when I don't happen to see you, so you will know how I get on.”
“Yes! yes! but are you going?”
“I must go sometime and it's better over with. We shall write each other and we shall meet quite often at various places. I shall go where I know you will be.”
She was crying violently.
“You must not leave me! You must not, Philip!”
But he moved slowly to the door.