She remembered the scorn with which she had turned from him
that day, and knew, if he guessed the truth, what a list of old scores
it must settle. She turned and fled upstairs; but when she got back to
her room all the words that had been waiting had vanished....
If she could have gone to Harney it would have been different; she would
only have had to show herself to let his memories speak for her. But
she had no money left, and there was no one from whom she could have
borrowed enough for such a journey. There was nothing to do but to
write, and await his reply. For a long time she sat bent above the blank
page; but she found nothing to say that really expressed what she was
feeling....
Harney had written that she had made it easier for him, and she was glad
it was so; she did not want to make things hard. She knew she had it in
her power to do that; she held his fate in her hands. All she had to
do was to tell him the truth; but that was the very fact that held her
back.... Her five minutes face to face with Mr.
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