“Yes—longer.”
“Impossible! Eternity would not be too long.”
“Nous verrons,” said she, with a laugh.
“At least you will write? You’ll send me your picture?”
“I never write, and you have my picture.”
“And another in my heart,” he cried hotly.
“I have tried to put it there.”
“But give me some token—anything—a ribbon—a glove—anything.”
“Well, let it be a glove. As I go I will give you a glove.”