She looked again, this time towards an unpeopled shore. No sentinel guarded the uncharted reefs, and the very skies were smiling, after the storm, at the scudding fates.
It was not until they were landlocked once more, and the Folly was reluctantly beating back through the Narrows, that he spoke again.
"So you wish me to go away?"
"I cannot see any use in your staying," she replied, "after what you have said. I—cannot see," she added in a low voice, "that for you to remain would be to promote the happiness of—either of us. You should have gone to-day."
"You care!" he exclaimed.
"It is because I do not wish to care that I tell you to go—"
"And you refuse happiness?"
"It could be happiness for neither of us," said Honora. "The situation would be impossible. You are not a man who would be satisfied with moderation. You would insist upon having all. And you do not know what you are asking."
"I know that I want you," he said, "and that my life is won or lost with or without you."
You have no right to say such a thing."