It was as though a string, too tightly stretched, had suddenly snapped.
She answered him indifferently.
"To cheer you on your way, I suppose ?" "No.

I shouldn't"-- significantly--"call it cheering.

I've been back in England a month, alone in the damned desolation of Dartmoor, fighting--fighting to keep away from you." She looked at him with steady, scrutinising eyes.
"Why need you have kept away ?" she asked incisively.
"At the bidding of the great god Circumstance.

Oh, my dear, my dear"-- speaking with passionate vehemence--"don't you know.

.