"What is this thing you have done?" Betty's heart was beating
with dull sickening throbs, but she dared not trust herself to
answer him. He took both her hands in one of his, and, slipping
the other under her chin, raised her face so that he could look
into her eyes; then he put his arm loosely about her, holding her
hands against his breast. "If I could have had one moment out of
all the years for my own--only one. I am glad you don't care,
dear; it hurts when you reach the end of something that has been
all your hope and filled all your days. I have come to say
good-by, Betty; this is the last time I shall see you. I am
going away."
All in an instant Betty pressed close to him, hiding her face in
his arm; she clung to him in a panic of pain and horror. She
felt something stir within her that had never been there before,
as a storm of passionate longing swept through her. Her words,
her promise to another man, became as nothing. All her pride was
forgotten. Without this man the days stretched away before her a
blank. His arm drew her closer still, until she felt her heart
throb against his.
"Do you care?" he said, and seemed to wonder that she should.
"Bruce, Bruce, I didn't know--and now-- Oh, my dear, my dear--"
He pressed his lips against the bright little head that rested in
such miserable abandon against his shoulder.
"Do you love me?" he whispered. The blood ran riot in his veins.
"Why have you stayed away--why didn't you come to me? I have
promised him--" she gasped.
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