White and cold, and with a strange sinking at her heart, she turned to him soon, and stopped where she stood.
He looked into her face, his own suffused with emotion. She held out both her hands, the goldenrod, which she had held until now, falling to the ground. Keith Burgess took them in both his, and Anna felt that his hands trembled far more than did her own.
“I believe you were right,” she said simply. “It is the will of God.”
He kissed her then on her brow and on her lips, the salutation disturbing her no more than if he had been her brother.
“Please, will you let me go home now, alone, Mr. Burgess?” she asked humbly, like a child.
Keith was disappointed, but consented at once.
“Only,” he said, “you should not call me Mr. Burgess. My name for you is Keith.”
“Not yet,” she answered. “In outward things and ways remember, please, that we are perfect strangers. It is only in the spirit that we have met.”
Then she left him, and Keith Burgess stood watching the tall, dark figure swiftly receding down the wood walk in the yellow light. His look was wistful. He longed to go after her, but he forebore.
Anna hastened down into the city streets and to the hospital where she was on duty every afternoon. There was plenty of work awaiting her, and not for a moment was she free or left alone to think her own thoughts. Six o’clock found her back in her own rooms at Mrs. Wilson’s. They were low and dull after the fine spaciousness of the Ingraham house, but that was a matter of little note to Anna.