Page:The White Peacock, Lawrence, 1911.djvu/262

254 “Glad to go away from us all.”

“I suppose so—since I must.”

“Ah, Fate—Fate! It separates you whether you want it or not.”

“What?”

“Why, you see, you have to leave. I mustn’t stay out here—it is growing chilly. How soon are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Not soon then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then I may see you again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh, yes, I shall. Well, I must go. Shall I say good-bye now?—that was what you wanted, was it not?”

“To say good-bye?”

“Yes.”

“No—it wasn’t—I wanted, I wanted to ask you——”

“What?” she cried.

“You don’t know, Lettie, now the old life’s gone, everything—how I want you—to set out with—it’s like beginning life, and I want you.”

“But what could I do—I could only hinder—what help should I be?”

“I should feel as if my mind was made up—as if I could do something clearly. Now it’s all hazy—not knowing what to do next.”

“And if—if you had—what then?”

“If I had you I could go straight on.”

“Where?”

“Oh—I should take a farm in Canada——”