His chest heaved convulsively. "Any comfort! To know that you—care still! To know that you—love me! My darling—"
She held him off firmly, with both hands.
"No, no! Nothing further. I've told you so much, because I can't bear to see you so unhappy. But things can only be like that. I know now that you love me, and you know that I love you. We are not engaged. You are free to marry to-morrow, if you like."
He exclaimed indignantly. "Yes; but you might change your mind. It might mean too long, the waiting."
"Too long for you—!" huskily.
"It doesn't seem to me now as if it could be," she replied.
[CHAPTER XXXVII]
The Mischief-Maker Again
"IS Mrs. Stirling at home?"
The caller, in her best toque and white kid gloves, put this question with a beaming smile.