Only in the glass's reflection he saw the white road stretching to the wood.
"I really am going off my head.

She'll see that something's up"-- and then from the bottom of his heart, far away as though it had been the cry of another person, "Oh! how I want her How I want her!" He took her in his arms and kissed her and felt as though he were dead and she were dead and that they were both, being so young am eager for life, struggling to get back existence again.
Her voice came to him from a long distance "Olva, how ill you look! What is it?
What won't you tell me?
There's something the matter with you all and you all keep me in the dark." He said nothing and she went on very gently, "It would be so much better, dear, if you were to tell me.

After all, I'm part of you now, aren't I?
Perhaps I can help you." His own voice, from a long distance, said: "I don't think that you can help me, Margaret." She put her hand on his arm and looked up into his face.

"I am trying to help you all, but it is so difficult if you will tell me nothing.

And, Olva dear, if it is something that you have done--something that you are afraid to tell me--believe me, dear, that there's nothing--nothing in the world--that you could have done that would matter to me now.