It wouldn't be for my sake--silver cuff links

"What's that, compared with your talk of going away?"
All explanations and reassurances would have been trivial in effect, compared with the truth that he had been hurt in her defense.  She dashed her tears right and left, ran for a basin of water, and making him take her chair, began washing away the blood stains.
"Thunder!" he said, laughing, "How quickly we've changed places!"
"Oh, oh!" she moaned, "It's a terrible wound; it might have killed you, and they WILL kill you yet."
He took her hands and held them firmly. "Alida," he said, gravely yet kindly, "be still and listen to me."
For a moment or two longer her bosom heaved with convulsive sobs, and then she grew quiet. "Don't you know you can't go away?" he asked, still retaining her hands and looking in her face.
"I could for your sake," she began.
"No, it wouldn't be for my sake.  I don't wish you to go, and wouldn't let you.  If you should let the Oakville rabble drive you away, I WOULD be in danger, and so would others, for I'd be worse on 'em than an earthquake.  After the lesson they've had tonight, they'll let us alone, and I'll let them alone.  You know I've tried to be honest with you from the first.  Believe me, then, the trouble's over unless we make more for ourselves.  Now, promise you'll do as I say and let me manage."
"I'll try," she breathed softly.
"No, no!  That won't do.  I'm beginning to find you out.  You may get some foolish, self-sacrificing notion in your head that it would be best for me, when it would be my ruination.  Will you promise?"
"Yes."
"Famous!  Now you can bathe my head all you please for it feels a little queer."
"It's an awful wound," she said in tones of the deepest sympathy. "Oh, I'm so sorry!"
"Pshaw!  My head is too hard for that little scamp of a Weeks to break.  His turn'll come next."
She cut away the blood-clotted hair and bound up the rather severe scalp wound with a tenderness and sympathy that expressed itself even in her touch.  She was too confused and excited to be conscious of herself, but she had received some tremendously strong impressions.  Chief among them was the truth that nothing which had happened made any difference in him--that he was still the same loyal friend, standing between her and the world she dreaded--yes, between her and her own impulses toward self-sacrifice.