He was silently angry; the thing that stirred without their leave had been sweet.
"No," said Advena, "I can't go, I suppose.

I'm sorry.

I should have liked so much to be of use." She looked up at him appealingly, and sudden tears came and stood in her eyes, and would perhaps have undone his hurt but that he was staring into the fire.
"How can you be of use," he said, almost irritably, "in such ways as those?
They are not important, and I am not sure that for us they are legitimate.

If you were about to be--married"-- he seemed to plunge at the word--"I should not wish either to hasten you or to house you.

I should turn my back on it all.