She shrank at the sneer of the "already," but instantly
remembered that it was the only thing he could be expected to
say, since it was just because he couldn't understand that she
was flying from him.

"Oh, Streff--if I knew how to tell you!"

"It doesn't so much matter about the how. Is that what you're
trying to say?"

Her head drooped, and she saw the dead leaves whirling across
the path at her feet, lifted on a sudden wintry gust.

"The reason," he continued, clearing his throat with a stiff
smile, "is not quite as important to me as the fact."

She stood speechless, agonized by his pain. But still, she
thought, he had remembered the dinner at the Embassy. The
thought gave her courage to go on.

"It wouldn't do, Streff. I'm not a bit the kind of person to
make you happy."

"Oh, leave that to me, please, won't you?"

"No, I can't. Because I should be unhappy too."

He clicked at the leaves as they whirled past. "You've taken a
rather long time to find it out." She saw that his new-born
sense of his own consequence was making him suffer even more