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Rh of not knowing things, of wavering, of feeling unhappy.

"Everything could have been so different," she said, almost crying.

"What do you mean? When?"

"If Addie . . ."

"If he what?"

"I don't know," she said. "I'm tired of thinking about it. It is not his fault."

"No, it's your fault."

"My fault?"

"Yes! Nothing would keep you from marrying him. . . . And I loved you."

"You? But you never asked me!"

"But you knew that I loved you. Yes, everything could have been different, oh, everything could have been so very different!"

She suddenly began to cry.

"Tilly!"

"Oh," she said, sobbing, "don't let us talk like this! Let's go to the tennis-club."

"No, no, I don't want to."

She turned.

"Tilly . . ."

"No, I won't go any farther. I'm going to the club. It'll distract me . . . to play tennis."

She turned back; he followed her.

"Tilly, you're so unstrung. If you were a little calmer, I should tell you . . ."

"What?"

"That I can't bear to see you unhappy. Oh, I love you, I love you! Let us go away . . . together."

"Go away? Where?"

"With each other. I love you, I love you, I have always loved you."

She stopped with a start: