Then she began to walk again, up and down, up and down.

Then, all of a sudden, she flung herself on the couch and began to cry and sob as if her heart would break.

And when I tried to comfort her, I only seemed to make it worse, for she threw her arms around me and cried: "Oh, my darling, my darling, don't you see how dreadful it is, how dreadful it is ?" And then is when she began to talk some more about being married, and _un_married as we were.

She held me close again and began to sob and cry.
"Oh, my darling, don't you see how dreadful it all is--how unnatural it is for us to live--this way?
And for you--you poor child!--what could be worse for you?
And here I am, jealous--jealous of your own father, for fear you'll love him better than you do me! "Oh, I know I ought not to say all this to you--I know I ought not to.
But I can't--help it.

I want you! I want you every minute; but I have to give you up--six whole months of every year I have to give you up to him.