She also knew that the chance of seeing him soon again was very slight, and to part from him now in aught but kindness would almost kill her.
Before John had recognized Dorothy he certainly had acted like a fool, but with the shock of recognition came wisdom.

All the learning of the ancients and all the cunning of the prince of darkness could not have taught him a wiser word with which to make his peace, "I may never let you see my face again." That was more to be feared by Dorothy than even John's inconstancy.
Her heart was full of trouble.

"I do not know what I wish," she said simply.

"Give me a little time to think." John's heart leaped with joy, but he remained silent.
Dorothy continued: "Oh, that I had remained at home.

I would to God I had never seen Derby-town nor you." John in the fulness of his wisdom did not interrupt her.
"To think that I have thus made a fool of myself about a man who has given his heart to a score of women." "This is torture," moaned John, in real pain.
"But," continued Dorothy, "I could not remain away from this place when I had the opportunity to come to you.