He had ceased to speak; he had told her once more how he loved her and why.

She summoned her courage, fixed her eyes upon a lightning-splintered ash-tree, and, almost as if she were reading a writing fixed to the trunk, began: "I was wrong to get engaged to you.

I shall never make you happy.

I have never loved you." "Katharine!" he protested.
"No, never," she repeated obstinately.

"Not rightly.