She looked at him.

"Norman," she said, slowly, "is it--is it something about me ?" How was he to tell her?
He felt that it would be easier to take her out into the glorious light of the sunset and slay her than kill her with the cruel words that he must speak.

How was he to tell her?
No physical torture could be so great as that which he must inflict; yet he would have given his life to save her from pain.
"It is--I am quite sure," she declared, slowly--"something about me.

Oh, Norman, what is it?
I have not been away from you long.

Yet no change from fairest day to darkest night could be so great as the change in you since I left you.