“Are we like them?”
“Are we?”
“I thought we were not,” he said.
“Why should you think that?” she answered. “I don't know. Perhaps we are the same as the rest. Perhaps I only imagine the difference.”
“You are going?” she said in alarm as he moved toward the door.
“Yes, Barbara.”
But Barbara threw herself down into a chair and commenced to cry afresh. This drew Philip back to her side in an instant.
“Won't you say good-by, Barbara, just for the present? Won't you say good-by, dear?” He sought to remove the hand she held before her face.
She gave him no answer and he turned from her, at first irresolute and then with more decision, for his mind was made up. After all, her sense of resentment would lighten her grief for the moment. It would be easier to bear because of it.
He stepped into the hall, the door closed, and Barbara heard his footsteps growing fainter. He was gone!