et."

He said, very quietly: "If she ever comes to any conclusion that it is
better for us both never to meet again--I might be as dead as Querida
for any work I should ever again set hand to.

"If she will not marry me, but will let things remain as they are, at
least I can go on caring for her and working out this miserable problem
of life. But if she goes out of my life, life will go out of me. I know
that now."

Rita looked at him pitifully:

"Valerie's mind is her own, Kelly. It is the most honest mind I have
ever known; and nothing on earth--no pain that her decision might
inflict upon her--would swerve it a hair's breath from what she
concludes is the right thing to do."

"I know it," he said, swallowing a sudden throb of fear.

"Then what can I say to you?"

"Nothing. I must wait."

"Kelly, if you loved her enough you would not even wait."

"What!"

"Because her return to you will mean only one thing. Are you going to
accept it of her?"

"What can I do? I can't live without her!"

"_Her_ problem is nobler, Kelly. She is asking herself not whether she
can live life through without _you_--but whether you can live life well,
and to the full, without _her_?"

Neville flushed painfully.

"Yes," he said, "_that is_ Valerie. I'm not worth the anxiety, the
sorrow that I have brought her. I'm not worth marrying; and I'm not
worth a heavier sacrifice.... I'm trying to think less of myself, Rita,
and more of her.... Perhaps, if I knew she were happy, I could
stand--losing her.... If she could be--without me--" He checked himself,
for the struggle was unnerving him; then he set his face firmly and
looked straight at Rita.

"Do you believe she could forget me and be contented and tranquil--if I
gave her the chance?"

"Are _you_ talking of self-sacrifice for _her_ sake?"

He drew a deep, uneven breath:

"I--suppose it's--that."

"You mean that you're willing to eliminate yourself and give her an
opportunity to see a little of the world--a little of its order and
tranquillity and quieter happiness?--a chance to meet interesting women
and attractive men of her own age--as she is certain to do through her
intimacy with the Countess d'Enver?"

"Yes," he said, "that is what must be done.... I've been blind--and
rottenly selfish. I did not mean to be.... I've tried to force her--I
have done nothing else since I fell in love with her, but force her
toward people whom she has a perfect right not to care fo