This whole affair is truly my fault. The chance it is the same for both. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. He felt that he might soon be separated—perhaps, for ever—from the fond little creature he held in his arms, whom he had always regarded with the warmest fraternal affection, and the thought of how much she would suffer from the separation so sensibly affected him, that he could not help joining in her grief. And it’s no good pretending there is one when there isn’t. They did not speak until he had driven past town limits and were on the highway. At that a new element poured into her excitement, an element of wild disgust and terror.
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