“Don’t talk to me about Prissie!” Then he got it out. He tore it out of himself. He loved her. “Oh, Robin----” Her fingers loosened in her dismay; she went dropping red campion. It was no use, he said, to think about Prissie. He couldn’t marry her. He couldn’t marry anybody but Hatty; Hatty must marry him. “You can’t say you don’t love me, Hatty.” No. She couldn’t say it; for it wouldn’t be true. “Well, then----” “I can’t. I’d be doing wrong, Robin. I feel all the time as if she belonged to you; as if she were married to you.” “But she isn’t. It isn’t the same thing.” “To me it is. You can’t undo it. It would be too dishonorable.” “Not half so dishonorable as marrying her when I don’t love her.” “Yes. As long as she loves you. She hasn’t anybody but you. She was so happy. So happy. Think of the cruelty of it. Think what we should send her back to.” “You think of Prissie. You don’t think of me.” “Because it would _kill_ her.” “How about you?” “It can’t kill us, because we know we love each other. Nothing can take that from us.” “But I couldn’t be happy with her, Hatty. She wears me out. She’s so restless.” “_We_ couldn’t be happy, Robin. We should always be thinking of what we did to her. How could we be happy?” “You know how.” “Well, even if we were, we’ve no right to get our happiness out of her suffering.” “Oh, Hatty, why are you so good, so good?” “I’m not good. It’s only--there are some things you can’t do. We couldn’t. We couldn’t.” “No,” he said at last. “I don’t suppose we could. Whatever it’s like I’ve got to go through with it.” He didn’t stay that night. She was crouching on the floor beside her father, her arm thrown across his knees. Her mother had left them there. “Papa--do you know?” “Your mother told me.... You’ve done the right thing.” “You don’t think I’ve been cruel? He said I didn’t think of him.” “Oh, no, you couldn’t do anything else.” She couldn’t. She couldn’t. It was no use thinking about him. Yet night after night, for weeks and months, she thought, and cried herself to sleep. By day she suffered from Lizzie’s sharp eyes and Sarah’s brooding pity and Connie Pennefather’s callous, married stare. Only with her father and mother she had peace. VI Towards spring Harriett showed signs of depression, and they took her to the south of France and to Bordighera and Rome. In Rome she recovered. Rome was one of those places you ought to see; she had always been anxious to do the right thing. In the little Pension in the Via Babuino she had a sense of her own importance and the importance of her father and mother. They were Mr. and Mrs. Hilton Frean, and Miss Harriett Frean, seeing Rome.