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you were moving toward me across the grass I thought of nothing but that you were coming; that we were going to have tea together, on the ricketty iron table, that I should pour it out for you. That after that we should walk here together, and then you would go home with me, dine together at Carbies, talk and talk and talk. …"

He could not help taking her hand again, because she gave it to him, but his face was set and serious.

"Tell me, is it the same with you as it is with me? Am I a stranger to you sometimes? Different from what you expect? Do I disappoint you, and leave you cold, almost as if you disliked me? Don't answer. I expect, I know it is the same with you. You find me plain, gone off, you wonder what you ever saw in me."

He answered with a quiet yet passionate sincerity:

"When I see you after an interval my heart rushes out to you, my pulses leap. I feel myself growing pale. I am paralysed and devoid of words. Margaret! My very soul breathes Margaret, my wonderful Margaret. I cannot get my breath." Her eyes shone and exulted.

"It is not like that always?" she whispered, leaning towards him.

"It is like that always. But today it was more than that. I had not seen you for a week, a whole long week. Sometimes in that week I had not dared look forward."