'Please don't call me Miss Donne,' Margaret said, very low.

'Margaret----' he paused on the syllables, as he almost whispered them.

'No!' he said, suddenly, as if angry with himself. 'That's silly! Don't

make me do such things, please, or I shall hate myself! Nothing in the

world can ever change what is, and I shall never have the right to put

out my hand and ask you to marry me. The best we can do is to say

good-bye, and I'll try to keep out of your way. Help me to do that, for

it's the only help you can ever give me!' 'I don't believe it,' Margaret answered. 'We can always be friends, if

we cannot be anything else.' Lushington shook his head incredulously, but said nothing.

'Why not?' Margaret asked, clinging to her idea. 'Why can't we like

each other, be very, very fond of each other, and meet often, and each

help the other in life? I don't want to know your secret. I won't even

call you Tom, as I want to, and you shall be as stiff and formal with

me as you please. What do such things matter, if we really care? If we

really trust one another, and know it? The main thing is to know, to be

absolutely sure. Why do you wish to go away, just when I've found out

how much I want you to stay? It's not right, and it's not kind! Indeed

it's not!' They had been walking very slowly, and now she stood still and faced

him, waiting for his answer.

He looked steadily into her eyes as he spoke.

'I don't think I can stay,' he said slowly. 'You can't tear love up by

the roots and plant it in a pot and call it friendship. If you try,

something will happen. Excuse me if the simile sounds lyric, but I

don't happen to think of a better one, on the spur of the moment. I'll

behave all right before the others, but I had better go away to-morrow

morning. The thing will only get worse if I keep on seeing you.' Margaret heard the short, awkward sentences and knew what they cost

him. She looked down and stuck the bright metal tip of her parasol into

the thin dry mud of the macadamised road, grinding it in slowly, half

round and half back, with both hands, and unconsciously wondering what

made the earth so hard just in that place.

'I wish I were a man!' she said all at once, and the parasol bent

dangerously as she gave it a particularly vicious twist, leaning upon

it at the same time.




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