The stranger
closed the door, and came towards her with that curious, quick-leaping
step of his. His long coat was tightly buttoned, and in his hands he
carried his old felt hat and the massive knotted stick that was almost
a staff.
"I have come to say good-bye," explained the stranger. "I am going."
"I shall not see you again?" asked the girl.
"I cannot say," replied the stranger. "But you will think of me?"
"Yes," she answered with a smile, "I can promise that."
"And I shall always remember you," promised the stranger, "and I wish
you every joy--the joy of love, the joy of a happy marriage."
The girl winced. "Love and marriage are not always the same thing,"
she said.
"Not always," agreed the stranger, "but in your case they will be
one."
She looked at him.
"Do you think I have not noticed?" smiled the stranger, "a gallant,
handsome lad, and clever. You love him and he loves you. I could not
have gone away without knowing it was well with you."
Her gaze wandered towards the fading light.
"Ah, yes, I love him," she answered petulantly. "Your eyes can see
clearly enough, when they want to. But one does not live on love, in
our world. I will tell you the man I am going to marry if you care to
know." She would not meet his eyes. She kept her gaze still fixed
upon the dingy trees, the mist beyond, and spoke rapidly and
vehemently: "The man who can give me all my soul's desire--money and
the things that money can buy.
Pages:
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31