Hope was becoming to Franklin. Althea felt herself colouring a little under his eyes. 'You still feel that?' she said rather feebly.
'I'll always feel that.'
'It's very wonderful of you, Franklin. It makes me, sometimes, feel guilty, as though I kept you from fuller happiness.'
'You can't do that. You are the only person who can give me fuller happiness.'
'And I give you happiness, like this—even like this?—really?'
'Of course; but,' he smiled a little forcedly, 'I can't pretend it's anything like what I want. I want a great deal.'
Althea's eyes fell before the intent and gentle gaze.
'Dear Franklin—I wish——'
'You wish you could? I wonder—I wonder, Althea, if you feel a little nearer to it just now. I seem to feel, myself, that you are.'
Was she? How she wished she were. Yet the wish was mixed with fear. She said, faltering, 'Don't ask me now. I'm so glad to see you—so glad; but that's not the same thing, is it?'