"I can. I've got a little house in the country, if you'll take it, and I can spare enough out of my income." She smiled. "You can't afford it." "If I could afford to marry, I could afford that." "I see. It's a beautiful scheme, Robert. And in the little house where I'm to live, you will come sometimes, and see me?" "I think it would be better not." "And what am I to do, if--if things are too hard for me? And if you are the only one----?" "_Then_ you're to send for me." "I see. I've only to send for you and you'll come?" "Of course I'll come." "When I can't bear it any longer, am I to send for you?" "You're to send for me when you're in any trouble, or any difficulty--or any danger." "And the way out of the trouble--and the difficulty--and the danger?" "Between us we shall find the way." "No, Robert. Between us we shall lose it. And we shall never, never find it again." "You can't trust me, Kitty?" "I can't trust myself. I know how your scheme would work. I let you do this thing; I go away and live in the dear little house you'll give me; and I let you keep me there, and give me all my clothes and things. And you think that's the way to stop me thinking about you and caring for you? I shall be there, eating my heart out. What else can I do, when everything I put on or have about me reminds me of you, every minute of the day? I'm to look to you for everything, but never to see you until I can bear it no longer. How long do you think I shall bear it? A woman made like me? You know perfectly well what the trouble and the difficulty and the danger is. I shall be in it all the time. And some day I shall send for you and you'll come. Oh yes, you'll come; for you'll be in it, too. It won't be a bit easier for you than it is for me." She paused. "You'll come. And you know what the end of that will be." "You think no other end is possible between a man and a woman?" "If I do, it's men who have made me think it." "Have _I_, Kitty?" "No, not you. I don't say your plan wouldn't work with some other woman. I say it's impossible between you--and me." "Because you won't believe that I might behave differently from some other men?" "You _are_ different. And I mean to keep you so." She rose. "There's only one way," she said. "We must never see each other again. We mustn't even _think_. I shall go away, and you're not to come after me." "When?" "To-morrow. Perhaps to-night." "And where, Kitty?" "I don't know." "You shan't go," he said. "I'll go. You must stay here until we can think of something." She closed her eyes and drew a hard sigh, as if exhausted with the discussion. "Robert, dear, would you mind not talking any more to me? I'm very tired." "If I leave you will you go to bed and rest?" "I think so. You can say good night." He rose and came toward her. "No--don't say it!" she cried. "Don't speak to me!" She drew back and put her hands behind her as a sign that he was not to touch her.