She dared not trust herself to speak, lest she should give way and by her own weakness try his strength too hard.
"Good-bye, dear," he said with infinite tenderness.

Then, with a ghost of the old whimsical smile that reminded her sharply, cruelly, of the Peter of happier days: "We seem always to be saying good-bye, don't we?
And then Fate steps in and brings us together again.

But this time it is really good-bye--good-bye for always.

When we meet again--if we do--I shall have Celia to care for, and you will be Roger's wife." He stooped his head and pressed his lips against first one soft palm and then the other.

She heard him cross the room and the door close behind him.