“Please take it back again,” he said, and in his voice there came a sudden imperious accent which was new to Nancy. “And, when you take it, take me, too. We both are yours, you know.”
The girl moved steadily on for a step or two, her eyes fixed upon the strip of path before her. Then her step lagged a little and, turning, she smiled up into Barth’s troubled, waiting eyes, while she held out her hand for the coin.
“Give it back to me, then,” she said quietly. “It is mine.”
“With all it must mean,—Nancy?”
“Yes. With all it does mean.”
Their hands met about the shining piece of gold, and it was an instant before they dropped apart again. Then Barth gave a contented little sigh.
“And now,” he said slowly; “now at last I really can call you my Good Sainte Anne. Oh, rather!”
Transcriber’s Notes
Obvious printing errors have been silently corrected.