There was the sound of a step on the path. Betty turned,
supposing it to be Tom; but it was not Tom, it was Carrington
himself who stood before her, his face haggard and drawn. She
uttered an involuntary exclamation and shrank away from him.
Without a word he stepped to her side and took her hands rather
roughly.

For a moment there was silence between them, Betty stared up into
his face with wide scared eyes, while he gazed down at her as if
he would fasten something on his mind that must never be
forgotten. Suddenly he lifted her soft cold hands to his lips
and kissed them passionately again and again; then he held them
in his own against his cheek, his glance still fixed intently
upon her; it held something of bitterness and reproach, but now
she kept her eyes under their quivering lids from him.

"What am I to do without you?"--his voice was almost a whisper.
"What is this thing you have done?" Betty's heart was beating
with dull sickening throbs, but she dared not trust herself to
answer him. He took both her hands in one of his, and, slipping
the other under her chin, raised her face so that he could look
into her eyes; then he put his arm loosely about her, holding her
hands against his breast. "If I could have had one moment out of
all the years for my own--only one. I am glad you don't care,
dear; it hurts when you reach the end of something that has been
all your hope and filled all your days. I have come to say
good-by, Betty; this is the last time I shall see you. I am
going away."