it's better to have done nothing in bitterness--nothing in passion." And
she began to walk.

Longmore followed her without answering at first. But he took off his
hat and with his pocket-handkerchief wiped his forehead. "Where shall
you go? what shall you do?" he simply asked at last.

"Do? I shall do as I've always done--except perhaps that I shall go for
a while to my husband's old home."

"I shall go to MY old one. I've done with Europe for the present," the
young man added.

She glanced at him as he walked beside her, after he had spoken these
words, and then bent her eyes for a long time on the ground. But
suddenly, as if aware of her going too far she stopped and put out her
hand. "Good-bye. May you have all the happiness you deserve!"

He took her hand with his eyes on her, but something was at work in him
that made it impossible to deal in the easy way with her touch.
Something of infinite value was floating past him, and he had taken an
oath, with which any such case interfered, not to raise a finger to stop
it. It was borne by the strong current of the world's great life and not
of his own small one. Madame de Mauves disengaged herself, gathered in
her long scarf and smiled at him almost as you would do at a child you
should wish to encourage. Several moments later he was still there
watching her leave him and leave him. When she was out of sight he shook
himself, walked at once back to his hotel and, without waiting for the
evening train, paid his bill and departed.