Page:The Works of H G Wells Volume 7.pdf/533

 "You love her."

"I wonder if it is that makes the difference. Things are so complex. Love means anything—or nothing. I know you better than I do her, you know me better than she will ever do. I could tell you things I could not tell her. I could put all myself before you—almost—and know you would understand— Only"

"You love her."

"Yes," said Lewisham lamely and pulling at his moustache. "I suppose that must be it."

For a space neither spoke. Then Miss Heydinger said "Oh!" with extraordinary emphasis.

"To think of this end to it all! That all your promise What is it she gives that I could not have given?

"Even now! Why should I give up that much of you that is mine? If she could take it— But she cannot take it. If I let you go—you will do nothing. All this ambition, all these interests will dwindle and die, and she will not mind. She will not understand. She will think that she still has you. Why should she covet what she cannot possess? Why should she be given the thing that is mine—to throw aside?"

She did not look at Lewisham, but before her, her face a white misery.

"In a way—I had come to think of you as something belonging to me I shall—still."

"There is one thing," said Lewisham after a pause; "it is a thing that has come to me once or twice lately. Don't you think that perhaps you over-estimate the things I might have done? I