'Must you?'
'Yes.'
She thought awhile, and then she asked him if he was glad to go.
'Well, I don't know. Are you sorry, Lizzie?'
She thought a good long while, and then she said she was.
He moved closer to the girl, and suddenly slipped his arm round her waist. She did not seem agitated; she still gazed dreamily at the line of ridges, but her head inclined slightly towards him.
'Lizzie, did you ever love anyone?'―then anticipating the usual reply―'except, of course, your father and mother, and all that sort of thing.' Then, abruptly: 'I mean did you ever have a sweetheart?'
She reflected, so as to be sure; then she said she hadn't.
Long pause, and he, the city man, breathed hard―not the girl. Suddenly he moved nervously, and said:
'Lizzie―Lizzie! Do you know what love means?'
She pondered over this for some minutes, as a result of which she said she thought that she did.
'Lizzie! Do you think you can love me?'
She didn't seem able to find an answer to that. So he caught her to him in both arms, and kissed her hard and long on the mouth. She was agitated now―she had some complexion now; she struggled to her feet, trembling.
'We must go now,' she said quickly. 'They will be waiting for tea.'
He stood up before her, and held her there by both hands
