She moved slowly on when he paused, and he moved slowly on beside her.

“It seems egotistical to begin by saying so much about myself,” he resumed, “but whatever I say to you seems, even in my own ears, below what I want to say, and different from what I want to say. I can’t help it. So it is. You are the ruin of me.”

She started at the passionate sound of the last words, and at the passionate action of his hands, with which they were accompanied.

“Yes! you are the ruin⁠—the ruin⁠—the ruin⁠—of me. I have no resources in myself, I have no confidence in myself, I have no government of myself when you are near me or in my thoughts. And you are always in my thoughts now. I have never been quit of you since I first saw you. Oh, that was a wretched day for me! That was a wretched, miserable day!”