The luck's been against me.

It's been cruel hard against me.

An' that thought is tearin' at me heart this minnit." "It isn't THAT, Frank," she said, faintly.
"Then what is it ?" "Oh," she cried, "I hoped it would be so different--so very different." "What did ye think would be so different, dear?
Our going back?
Is that what's throublin' ye ?" "No, Frank.

Not that.

I don't care how we go back so long as you are with me." He pressed her hand.