“How can you!” he cried, with such pain in his voice that Bertha could not bear it.
“The whole thing is awful,” she groaned. “For God’s sake let us try to forget it. I’ve only succeeded in making you entirely wretched. The only remedy is to part quickly.”
“I can’t leave you, Bertha. Let me stay.”
“It’s impossible. You must go, now more than ever.”
They were interrupted by the appearance of Miss Ley, who began to talk; but to her surprise neither Bertha nor Gerald showed their usual vivacity.
“What is the matter with you both to-day?” she asked. “You’re unusually attentive to my observations.”
“I’m rather tired,” said Bertha, “and I have a headache.”
Miss Ley looked at Bertha more closely, and fancied that she had been crying; Gerald also seemed profoundly miserable. Surely.... Then the truth dawned upon her, and she could hardly repress her astonishment.
“Good Heavens!” she thought, “I must have been blind. How lucky he’s going in a week!”
Miss Ley now remembered a dozen occurrences which had escaped her notice, and was absolutely confounded.