She shot up a look under her eyebrows. His eyes had a harassed expression, but there was a gleam in them that set her heart beating. “Is it so painful? Is it?” “Glory, I meant to tell you I could not come again.” “No! You're not so busy as all that, are you? Surely” (the Manx again, only she seemed to be breathless now)--“surely you're not so ter'ble busy but you can just put a sight on a girl now and again for all?” He made a gesture with his hand. “It disturbs, it distracts----” “Oh, is that all? Then,” with a forced laugh, “I'll come to see you instead. Yes, I will, though.” “No, you mustn't do that, Glory. It would only torment----” “Torment! Gough bless me! Why torment?” and a fugitive flame shot up at him. “Because”--he stammered, and she could see that his lips quivered; then calmly, very calmly, pronouncing the words slowly, and in a voice as cold as ice--“because I love you!” “You!” “Didn't you know that?” His voice was guttural. “Haven't you known it all along? What's the use of pretending? You've dragged it out of me. Was that only to show your power over me?” “Oh!” She had heard what her heart wanted to hear, and not for worlds would she have missed hearing it, yet she was afraid, and trembling all over. “We two are of different natures, Glory, that's the trouble between us--now, and always has been. We have nothing in common, absolutely nothing. You have chosen your path in life, and it is not my path. I have chosen mine, and it is not yours. Your friends are not my friends. We are two different beings altogether, and yet--and yet I love you! And that's why I can not come again.” It was sweet, but it was terrible. So different from what she had dreamed of: “I love you!--you are my soul!--I can not live without you!” Yet he was right. She had slain his love before it was born to her--it was born dead. In an unsteady voice, which had suddenly become husky, she said: “No doubt you are right. I must leave you to judge. Perhaps you have thought it all out.” “Don't suppose it will be easy for me, Glory. I've suffered a good deal, and I dare say I shall suffer more yet. If so, I'll bear it. But for the sake of my work----” “Ah!--But of course I can't expect--Naturally you love your work also----” “I _do_ love my work also, and therefore it's no use trifling. 'If thine eye offend--'” She was stung. “Well, since there's no help for it, I suppose we must shake hands and part.” Not until then--not until he had pronounced his doom and she had accepted it did he realize how beautiful she seemed to him. He felt as if something in his throat wanted to cry out. “It isn't what I expected, Glory--what I dreamed of for years.” “But it's best--it seems best.” “I tried to make a place for you, too, but you wouldn't have it--you let it go; you preferred this other lot in life.” She remembered Josephs, and Sefton, and the newspaper, and the part, and she covered her face with her hands.