I suppose it isn't you.
It's the same impulse, after all, that took you south after--after the wild geese." She stopped, almost broken down by the memory, and then recalled herself sternly.

"It's the same thing that led you away after MacStrann through the storm.

But whether it's a weakness in you, or the force of something outside your control, I see this thing clearly; we can't go on.

This is the end." He seemed troubled, vaguely, as a dog is anxious when it sees a child weep and cannot make out the reason.
"Oh, Dan," she burst out, "I love you more than ever! If it were I alone, I'd follow you to the end of the world, and live as you live, and do as you do.

But it's Joan.