"I couldn't tell you then that I loved you, because of it, and other things.

Now, it is different.

It does not matter what I say--now." She spoke these words with an underlying note of deep sadness, and went on: "When you told me that you loved me I saw my duty plainly.

I knew I must go away and hide myself from you, from everybody, go somewhere where nobody knew me, where I would never be known.

But I wanted to see my father first, to make sure." "I understand," he muttered in a dull voice.
"I thought it all out on the way to the hotel with my aunt.