...
There was no help for it. She could not tell him to his face. Gradually
the conviction dawned upon her through another night of racking thought.
And there was only one thing left to do. She must go.
Soon after sunrise she was up, and writing a note to her aunt. She
experienced small difficulty in this. It was quite simple to express her
thanks for all the kindness shown her, and to explain that she had
decided to pay a visit to her old home. She scarcely touched upon the
suddenness of her departure. The Careys were all of them sudden in their
ways. This move of hers would hardly strike them as extraordinary. She
was, moreover, so much a stranger among them that it did not seem to
matter in the face of her great need what they thought.
But a note to Tots was a different matter altogether, and she sat for
nearly two hours motionless above a sheet of paper, considering. In the
end she was again overcome by the almost physical impossibility of
putting the intolerable situation into bald words. Simply, she felt
utterly incapable of dealing with it. He had told her he was not joking.
She had believed the contrary in spite of this assurance. And she had
dared to trifle with him, to treat his offer as a jest.
How could she explain, how apologise, for such a mistake as this? The
thing was beyond words, and at length she gave up the attempt in
despair. She would send him back his ring in silence, and perhaps he
would understand.
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