really must get off to bed, old man! You're fit for nothing else. Witness my hand, Arthur Forester, M.D."
By this time I was wide-awake again. "Not quite yet!" I pleaded. "Really I'm not sleepy now. And it isn't midnight yet."
"Well, I did want to say another word to you," Arthur replied in a relenting tone, as he supplied me with the supper he had prescribed. "Only I thought you were too sleepy for it to-night."
We took our midnight meal almost in silence; for an unusual nervousness seemed to have seized on my old friend.
"What kind of a night is it?" he asked, rising and undrawing the window-curtains, apparently to change the subject for a minute. I followed him to the window, and we stood together, looking out, in silence.
"When I first spoke to you about———" Arthur began, after a long and embarrassing silence, "that is, when we first talked about her——for I think it was you that introduced the subject——my own position in life forbade me to do more than worship her from a distance:
