of movement such as I had never beheld. I kept my weary pace, and when she came up I did not lift my eyes.
“Adam!” she said, with gentle reproach. I stood still then, but with my face turned away.
“Forgive me!” All girlishness was gone out of her voice. It was the woman at last.
I turned my face farther from her, and we stood in silence.
“I have suffered enough, Adam,” she pleaded.
I answered quietly, doggedly, for there was nothing left in me to appeal to:
“I am glad we can part kindly. . . . Neither of us may care much for the kindness now, but we will not be sorry hereafter. . . . The quarrels, the mistakes, the right and the wrong of our lives, the misunderstandings—they are so strange, so pitiful, so full of pain, and come so soon to nothing.”