And this time the departure had a tremendous effect of finality. “You see,” he said, “you are like an inaccessible gold-mine in all this sort of matter. Such was the condition of his mind that the danger exhilarated rather than depressed him. Oh! that Mr. 167 “True love is forever, isn’t it?” It was something a child would say, a phrase she had seen scratched on bathroom walls and maple trees, but it made her sad. She crawled into her small bed, dizzy with the thoughts of him, of kissing him. She says she will have to, though she does not wish to. Maybe half a year, counting this summer. “You are positively eloquent to-night—both of you,” she declared.
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