"I can't bear to think
of it, and I feel as if I should never get it out of my head!"
Stanford was silent a moment, pulling his mustache as if trying to find
the right word.
"It must have been awful," he said hesitatingly; "and I'll never speak
of it again if you don't wish. Only I must say that it was dreadful to
me too. The thought of how near I came to losing you is more than I can
stand."
She leaned back in her chair, suddenly chilled, yet moved by the
feeling in his voice. Her conscience reproached her that she had
allowed a false hope to grow up in his mind. She felt as if he were
establishing a claim upon her, and that at any cost she must make him
see things as they were.
"You are very kind," she responded, trying to keep her tones from being
too cold; "but of course we always feel a shock when any friend has
been through a great danger."
Her eyes were cast down, but she could divine his regard of disquiet
and surprise.
"And especially those we love," he added, leaning forward, and
endeavoring to take her hand.
"Oh, of course, Mr. Stanford," she said hastily. "That is of course
true.
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