"Dick, I can't answer you. When I told you that I came here on purpose to meet you, that I wanted to see you again, it was true, all true. But oh, Dick, did I mean more?"
"How should I know?" said Dick, with a quiet laugh—a laugh of happiness.
"I suppose that I did. I wanted you to say just what you have said to-night. Yet now that you have said it—" she broke off with a cry. "Dick, I have met no one like you in my life. And I am very proud. Oh, Dick, my boy!" And she gave him her other hand. Tears glistened in her eyes.
"But I am not sure," she went on. "Now that you have spoken, I am not sure. It would be all so different from what my life has been, from what I thought it would be. Dick, you make me ashamed."
"Hush!" he said gently, as one might chide a child for talking nonsense.
He put an arm about her, and she hid her face in his coat.
"Yes, that's the truth, Dick. You make me ashamed."
So she remained for a little while, and then she drew herself away.
"I will think and tell you, Dick," she said.
"Tell me now!"
"No, not yet. It's all your life and my life, you know, Dick. Give me a little while."