He even sat down by the fire to talk with me.

Whatever struggle there had been, I saw it was over, he looked his own self--only so very, very pale--and spoke in his natural voice; ay, even when mentioning HER, which he was the first to do.
"She goes to-morrow, you are sure, Phineas ?" "I believe so.

Shall you see her again ?" "If she desires it." "Shall you say anything to her ?" "Nothing.

If for a little while--not knowing or not thinking of all the truth--I felt I had strength to remove all impediments, I now see that even to dream of such things makes me a fool, or possibly worse--a knave.

I will be neither--I will be a man." I replied not: how could one answer such words ?--calmly uttered, though each syllable must have been torn out like a piece of his heart.
"Did she say anything to you?
Did she ask why I left her so abruptly this morning ?" "She did; I said you would probably tell her the reason yourself." "I will.