I've got to know you better in this one evening than I could in a
year in a commonplace way. I don't want you to go out of my life, because
you're the best thing that ever came into it. And if I dared hope that I
might mean to you some day half what you've begun to mean for me already,
why, I wouldn't _let_ you go!"
Annesley clasped her hands under her cloak. They were cold yet tingling.
Her blood was leaping; but she could not speak. She was afraid of saying
too much.
"Can't you give me a grain of hope?" he went on. His voice was wistful.
"We have so little time."
"What--do you want me to say?" Annesley stammered.
"I want you to say--that you don't wish to see the last of me to-night."
"I shouldn't be human if I _could_ wish that!" the words seemed to speak
themselves; and she, who had been taught to repress and hide emotion as
if it were a vice, was glad that the truth was out. After all they had
gone through together she couldn't send this man away believing her
indifferent. "I--it doesn't seem as if we were strangers," she faltered
on.
"Strangers! I should think not," he echoed.
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