I am thinking of something else, too--" and she spoke more boldly, choosing her words with care--"of a plan which before you came I had formed, of a task which before you came I had set myself to do.

I am still thinking of it, still feeling that I ought to go on with it.

I do not think that I should feel that if I loved.

I think nothing else would count at all except that I loved.

So you are still my friend, and I cannot go with you." Chayne looked at her for a moment sadly, with a mist before his eyes.
"I leave you to much unhappiness," he said, "and I hate the thought of it." "Not quite so much now as before you came," she answered.