A warm tide of color spread over her pale face and throat. She leant over me and kissed Dorrie. When the child opened her eyes she said, “Come, darling, it’s nearly time for tea. We must be going.”
I helped her to gather up her things, taking all the time I could in the hope that she would ask me to accompany her.
She offered me her hand, saying, “Perhaps we shall meet again.”
“I’m sure I hope so. Ransby is such a little place.”
“Yes, but our movements are so uncertain. I don’t know how long we may be staying.”
“At any rate we’ve had a good time to-day.”
“Yes. You have been very kind. I’m sure Dorrie will remember you. Good-by.”
I watched them grow smaller across the sands, till they entered into the shadow of the cliff. I had a mad impulse to pursue them—to follow them at a distance and find out where they lived. How did I know that they had not vanished forever out of my life? I called myself a fool for not having seized my opportunities, however precipitately, while they were mine.
The wreck looked desolate now; all the romance had departed from it. The long emptiness of the shore filled me with loneliness. As I walked homeward, I strove to memorize her every tone and gesture. Their memory might be all that I should ever have of her. I was mortally afraid that we should never meet again.