She fell silent suddenly. I began to pace the room.
"For God's sake, don't do this, Nancy!" I begged.
But she continued to stare into the fire, as though she had not heard me.
"If you had made up your mind to do it, why did you tell me?" I asked.
"Sentiment, I suppose. I am paying a tribute to what I once was, to what you once were," she said. A—a sort of good-bye to sentiment."
"Nancy!" I said hoarsely.
She shook her head.
"No, Hugh. Surely you can't misjudge me so!" she answered reproachfully.
"Do you think I should have sent for you if I had meant—that!"
"No, no, I didn't think so. But why not? You—you cared once, and you tell me plainly you don't love him. It was all a terrible mistake. We were meant for each other."
"I did love you then," she said. "You never knew how much. And there is nothing I wouldn't give to bring it all back again. But I can't. It's gone. You're gone, and I'm gone. I mean what we were. Oh, why did you change?"