you shall go away and get something to eat. What sort of a passage did you have coming over?'
Maisie was crying more subduedly, for the first time in her life glad that she had something to lean against. Dick patted her on the shoulder tenderly but clumsily, for he was not quite sure where her shoulder might be.
She drew herself out of his arms at last and waited, trembling and most unhappy. He had felt his way to the window to put the width of the room between them, and to quiet a little the tumult in his heart.
'Are you better now?' he said.
'Yes, but—don't you hate me?'
'I hate you? My God! I?'
'Isn't—isn't there anything I could do for you, then? I'll stay here in England to do it, if you like. Perhaps I could come and see you sometimes.'
'I think not, dear. It would be kindest not to see me any more, please. I don't want to seem rude, but—don't you think—perhaps you had almost better go now.'
He was conscious that he could not bear himself as a man if the strain continued much longer.
'I don't deserve anything else. I'll go, Dick, Oh, I'm so miserable.'
