But I can do nothing to help you.

Oh! Donal, my own dear!" Her involuntary movement of putting her hand to her throat was a piteous gesture.
"You are going away," she pleaded.

"Don't let anything come between us--not _now_! It is not as if you were going to stay.

When you come back perhaps--" "I may never come back," he answered and as he said it he saw again the widowed girl who had hurried past him crying because he had saluted her.
And he saw Robin as he had seen her the night before--Robin who belonged to no one--whom no one missed at any time when she went in or out--who could come and go and meet a man anywhere as if she were the only little soul in London.

And yet who had always that pretty, untouched air.
"I only wanted to be sure.