at is worth doing, something not fruitless...."

"Are you to go into seclusion," I asked suddenly, "to be a nun----?"

"It is something like that," she said; "very like that. But I have
promised--practically--not to tell you that. Tell me your soul, Stephen,
now. Give me something I may keep in my mind through--through all those
years of waiting...."

"But where?" I cried. "What years of waiting?"

"In a lonely place, my dear--among mountains. High and away. Very
beautiful, but lonely. A lake. Great rocks.... Yes,--like that place. So
odd.... I shall have so much time to think, and I shall have no
papers--no news. I mustn't talk to you of that. Don't let me talk to you
of that. I want to hear about this world, this world I am going to
leave, and how you think you are going on fighting in the hot and dusty
struggle--to make the world cool and kind and reasonable, to train minds
better, to broaden ideas ... all those things you believe in. All those
things you believe in and stick to--even when they are dull. Now I am
leaving it, I begin to see how fine it is--to fight as you want to
fight. A tiresome inglorious lifelong fight.... You really believe,
Stephen?"

Sec. 11

And then suddenly I read her purpose.

"Mary," I cried, and stood up and laid my hand upon her arm, "Tell me
what is it you mean to do. What do you mean to do?"

She looked up at me defensively and for a moment neither of us spoke.

"Mary," I said, and could not say what was in my thoughts.

"You are wrong," she lied at last....

She stood up too and faced me. I held her shoulder and looked into her
eyes.

The gong of my little clock broke the silence.

"I must go, Stephen," she said. "I did not see how the time was slipping
by."

I began to entreat her and she to deny. "You don't understand," she
said, "you don't understand. Stephen!--I had hoped you would understand.
You see life,--not as I see it. I wanted--all sorts of splendid things
and you--begin to argue. You are shocked, you refuse to understand....
No. No. Take your hands off me, Stephen dear, and let me go. Let me go!"

"But," I said, stupid and persistent, "what are you going to do?"

"I've told you. Stephen. I've told you. As much as I can tell you. And
you think--this foolish thing. As though I could do that! Stephen, if I
promise, will you let me go?..."

Sec. 12

My mind leaps from that to the moment in the afternoon, when torn by
intolerable distresses and anxiet