Deadman's

A touching farewell full of bitter unspoken regrets, regrets that could only be expressed by tender hand-clasps and sad looks, would have been just to her mind, but Ruthven never even thought of such a thing. He would do her bidding, of course; she was quite right. He must marry the girl; but the dreariness of the outlook filled his mind to the exclusion of every other thought, and even the image of the woman he worshipped faded before this great trouble. He did not want to see anyone; he wanted to get away and get it all over as soon as possible.
'Get my horse round, will you, Langdon?' he said. 'I'd better be getting back to the camp.'
'Not to-night, old man, surely,' said the hospitable squatter. 'You stop with us to-night, at least.'
'I'd better go,' he said. 'I'm not good company, anyhow. What about the girl, Langdon? Can you send her back? To-morrow will do. I'll go and see her mother and settle things up.'
'Don't do anything in a hurry, man. If you must marry her, at least put the wedding off for a month or two. It'll give you time to look about you, and you might, you know--mind you, I don't say you will, but you just might find reason to change your mind.'