He should have repudiated such an idea with scorn, if he had not heard it from her own lips.

Well, he would leave her to the life she had chosen.
It only remained for him to thank her for stripping his last illusions from him and to bid her good-bye.
"We shall never meet again," he said, holding her hand, and looking very much the same without his illusions as he did when he had them on.

He had read somewhere a little poem about "A Woman's No," which at the last moment meant "Yes." And then there was another which chronicled how, after several stanzas of upbraiding, "we rushed into each other's arms." Both recurred to him now.

He had often thought how true they were.
"I do not think we shall meet again," said Rachel, who apparently had an unpoetic nature; "but I am glad for my own sake that we have met this once, and have had this conversation.

I think we owed it to each other and to our--former attachment." "Well, good-bye." He still held her hand.