“Do you know what that means for me?” he cried. “Do you realise⁠—” he drew in his breath sharply. “Never to see you again! To lose even the little that is left to me now. I⁠—I⁠—” He turned away quickly and walked to a window and stood a moment, his back turned, looking out, his hands clasped behind him. Then, after a long moment, he faced about. His manner was quiet again, his voice very low.

“But before I go,” he said, “will you answer me, at least, this⁠—it can do no harm now that I am to leave you⁠—answer me, and I know you will speak the truth: Are you happy, Laura?”

She closed her eyes.

“You have not the right to know.”

“You are not happy,” he declared. “I can see it, I know it. If you were, you would have told me so.⁠ ⁠… If I promise you,” he went on. “If I promise you to go away now, and never to try to see you again, may I come once more⁠—to say goodbye?”