"You!" says she in a low, strange voice. "Have _you _come here, too,
to _think?"_ She speaks with difficulty. Then all at once she makes
a stray movement with her hands, and brings herself to her senses by
a passionate effort. "You are like me, you want quiet," says she,
with a very ordinary little laugh; "so you came here. Well, shall I
leave you?"

She is looking very beautiful. Her pallor, the violet shades beneath
her eyes, all tend to make her lovely.

"It is you who have left me."

"I? Oh no! Oh, think!" says she, laughing still.

Rylton draws a long breath.

"After all, it could never have come to anything," says he, in a
dull sort of way.

"Never, never," smiling.

"I don't believe you care," says he bitterly.

She looks at him. It is a curious look.

"Why should I? Do _you_ care?"

He turns away.

"Don't let us part bad friends," says she, going to him, and twining