"And, oh! forgive me, though I can never forgive myself, for the misery I have caused you. This was automatically rather than thoughtfully done; habit. It isn't your duty. The lady's name's engraved inside, but so small I can scarcely read it. Moments, indeed! We like each other fresh and fresh. ‘Well she does,’ insisted Miss Froxfield impenitently, and turned to Gerald. She had made a bed for herself out of wood and furs. Wood could not avoid making a slight shuffling sound. We’ve deserted the posts in which we found ourselves, cut our duties, exposed ourselves to risks that may destroy any sort of social usefulness in us. I hate this part of the world. I'm about to leave this country for ever.
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