"Never mind," she said again. "You're sorry I think you're so different—and all in one day—since last night. Yes, your voice sounds sorry, too. It sounds sorrier than it would just because of my thinking something you could change my mind about in a minute—so it means you're sorry you are different."
"No—I———"
But disregarding the faint denial, "Never mind," she said. "Do you remember one night when you told me that nothing anybody else could do would ever keep you from coming here? That if you—if you left me—it would be because I drove you away myself?"
"Yes," he said, huskily. "It was true."
"Are you sure?"
"Indeed I am," he answered in a low voice, but with conviction.
"Then———" She paused. "Well—but I haven't driven you away."
"No."
"And yet you've gone," she said, quietly.
"Do I seem so stupid as all that?"
"You know what I mean." She leaned back in her chair again, and her hands, inactive for once, lay
