and face what is left of life, together." "You and I ?" "Yes." He sat beside her, dumb, incredulous, nimble wits searching for reasons.

What was he to reckon with in this sudden, calm suggestion of a martyrdom with him?
A whim?
Some occult caprice ?--or a quarrel with Hamil?
Was she wearied of the deception?
Or distrustful of herself, in her new love for Hamil, lest she be tempted to free herself after all?
Was she already at that point where, desperate, benefits forgot, wavering between infatuation and loyalty, she turned, dismayed, to the only course which must crush temptation for ever?
"Is that it ?" he asked.
"What ?" Her lips moved, forming the word without sound.
"Is it because you are so sorely tempted to free yourself at their expense ?" "Partly." "You poor child!" "No child now, Louis....

I have thought too deeply, too clearly.

There is no childhood left in me.

I _know_ things....