"You mean you've let him go already, How?" she asked.
"Yes. I didn't fasten him this evening."
They walked on so.
"You wanted him to go?"
No answer.
"Tell me, How, did you want him to leave?"
"No, Bess."
Again they advanced, until they reached the house door.
"Why did you let him go, then?" asked the girl tensely.
For the second time there was no answer.
"Tell me, How," she repeated insistently.
"I heard you get up last night, Bess," said a voice. "I thought
I--understood."
For long they stood there, the girl's hand on the man's arm, but neither
stirring; then with a sound perilously near a sob, the hand dropped.
"I think I'll go to bed now, How," she said.
Deliberately, instinctively, the man's arms folded across his chest.
That was all.
The girl mounted the single step, paused in the doorway.
"Aren't you coming, too, How?" she queried.
"No, Bess."
A sudden suspicion came to the girl, a sudden terror.
"You aren't angry with me, are you?" she trembled.
"No, Bess," repeated.
"But still you're not coming?"
"No."
Swift as a lightning flash suspicion became certainty.
"You mean you're not going to come with me to-night?" She scarcely
recognised her own voice. "You're never going to be with me again?"
"Never?" A long, long pause. "God alone knows about that, Bess." A
second halt. "Not until things between us are different, at least.
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