So it was no use Peter's staying here.
"You must go, Peter!" she exclaimed feverishly.

"You must go!" A new look sprang into his eyes--a sudden, terrible doubt and questioning.
"You want me to go ?" "Yes--yes!" She turned away, gesturing blindly in the direction of the door.

The room seemed whirling round her.

"I--I _want_ you to go!" Then she felt his hand on her shoulder and, yielding to its insistent pressure, she faced him again.
"Nan, is it because you've ceased to care that you tell me to go ?" He spoke very quietly, but there was something in the tense, hard-held tones before which she blenched--a note of intolerable fear.
Her shaking hands went up to her face.

It would be better if he thought that of her--better for him, at least.