In a sudden panic, I hastily catch up my hat, which has fallen to the ground, and without a word or look of farewell, begin to run fast along the homeward path.

Before I have gone ten yards he has overtaken me.

His face is distorted by passion out of all its beauty.
"Nancy," he says, in a voice rendered almost unrecognizable by extreme agitation, walking quickly alongside of me, "we are not going to part like this!" "Do not call me Nancy!" cry I, indignantly; "it makes me _sick_!" "What does it matter what I call you ?" he cries, impatiently; "of what consequence is such a trifle?
I will call you by what name you please, but for this once you _must_ listen to me.

I know, as well as you do, that it is my last chance!" "_That_ it is!" put in I, viciously.
The path is beginning to rise.

After mounting the slope, we shall soon be out of the wood, and in the peopled open again.
"How can I help it, if I have gone mad ?" he cries violently, evidently driven to desperation by the shortness of the time before him.
"Mad!" echo I, scornfully, "not a bit of it! you are as sane as I am!" All this time we are posting along in mad haste.