"Do you love me?"
"More than I ever loved anyone before—more than my own life, Mercedes."
"Then why, oh, why do you talk like that? Nothing on earth should come between us if this be true. Love me! You do not know what love is! Oh, the humiliation of acknowledging that I care too much for you! And then you can sit there and tell me that you actually feel sorry for me! And yet you want matters to go on as they are now; this, I presume, is because you pity me a little! Well, I want to tell you right here and now that I never want to see you again! Leave me at once, and never dare to speak to me!"
Joe waited until the storm of indignation had passed. Then he got up very quietly and walked toward the hall; taking his hat from the rack, he turned and said:
"Dearest, I have never pitied you; all that feeling was reserved for my poor self. I do not blame you in the least for the resentment you express at my treatment of you. I should have stopped coming here long ago; but I will admit I did not have courage enough to end it. I will resign my position on the railroad and leave this part of the country. Some time, as I said before, you will know all—then you will pity me."
Hat in hand, he opened the door to the street and
