Edith threw out her hand to check what she would fain have heard, but Thorne caught it. He came closer to her.
“There’s only to-night, and you in the world,” he said.
“You overwhelm me.”
“I can’t help myself. I came here determined not to tell you how I loved you, and for the last half hour I have been telling you nothing else. I could tell you all my life and never finish. Ah, my darling, my darling,—there’s only to-night and you.”
Edith swayed toward him for a moment, completely influenced by his ardour, but then drew back.
“No, no,” she faltered. “You mustn’t.” She glanced around the room apprehensively. “No, no, not now!”
“You are right,” said the man. She dragged herself away from him. He would not retain her against her will, and without a struggle he released her hand. “You are right. Don’t mind what I said, Miss Varney. I have forgotten myself, believe me.” He drew further away from her. “I came to make a brief call, to say good-bye, and——”
He turned and walked toward the hall door, after making her a low bow, and it was not without a feeling of joy that she noticed that he walked unsteadily, blindly.
“Oh, Captain Thorne,” she said, just as he had reached the door, “I——”
He stopped and looked back.