"No. I would rather you should leave off calling me 'Kitty,'" I said, not knowing what he meant by "this." "I'm not a child now," I said, "and I don't like the way you behave." "Behave!" Rupert burst out, and then he pulled himself in, and spoke quiet again: "What will your mother say, Kitty?" "Say to what?" I asked. "When I tell her I found you two here! Sort of tender leave-taking, wasn't it?" I could not guess how much he had seen or heard, and I would not stoop to ask him not to speak: so I did not say a word. "Kitty, this can't go on!" says he again. "What can't? I don't know what you mean, and I don't care!" I said, in a pet with him, because I was so unhappy. "You are cruel to me, Rupert; and I hate you when you plague me like this." "You—hate—me!" Rupert said the words slowly. The light fell full on his face—only a rough plain boyish face; but such a look of sorrow and love came into it that moment as I had never seen before, and it seemed to change the whole face. He put out both his hands towards me for a moment, with a sort of longing; but I don't think he knew he did that. Then he folded his arms tight, and the softness went out of his eyes, and his mouth grew hard and cold. "No, it can't go on," he said. "I've borne as much as I could; and I can't bear more. I can't be untrue, and I can't betray you! That's where it is. You see, Kitty, I can't hate you back, and I can't make myself not care. There's nothing for me but to go right away. You needn't tell my mother it was you who drove me to it! She'll understand." "Rupert, what nonsense you are talking!" I said, only half taking in what he said, for my mind was with Mr. Russell. "What nonsense! How can you say such foolish things? I don't know what you mean by 'going away.' It is nonsense. I don't want to vex you, if only you wouldn't behave so unbearably. I can't be spied and meddled with, and I can't pretend to like you more than I do." "No, there's no sort of pretence about it," says Rupert. "None at all. Folks don't 'pretend' to hate; and you 'hate' me. I could stand anything short of that, Kitty. Except seeing you throw yourself away on an empty-headed puppy, who'll make your life a burden to you. So I'm off; it don't matter where! and this is another good-bye." He went away slowly with his shuffling walk, not straight and quick like Mr. Russell. I noticed that, and at first I felt almost like laughing. For I little thought how deep my words had cut. There's many a word that goes in like a knife, and leaves a wound which doesn't heal for years. But I didn't see that, or believe what he said. Go away! It was so ridiculous. He had nowhere to go, and there was his work at the station, and his mother and sister couldn't do without him.