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 my talent in a napkin. Oh, my Pretty, go away, go away! You make a fool of me again! I had almost forgotten how to be sorry that you couldn’t love me. Go away, go away! Go, go!”

He threw out his hands, and they lay along the grass. His face went down into the tangled green, and she saw his shoulders shaken with sobs. She dragged herself along the grass till she was close to him; then she lifted his shoulders, and drew his head on to her lap, and clasped her arms round him.

“My darling, my dear, my own!” she said. “You’re tired, and you’ve thought of nothing but your hateful book—your beautiful book, I mean—but you do love me really. Not as I love you, but still you do love me. Oh, Rupert, I’ll nurse you, I’ll take care of you, I’ll be your slave; and if you have to die, I shall die too, because there’ll be nothing left for me to do for you.”

He put an arm round her. “It’s worth dying to hear that,” he said, and brought his face to lie against her waist.

“But you shan’t die. You must come back to London with me now—this minute. The best opinion”