"Let's not talk any more about it, Jerry. Please. I'll wait until you come down."
When he came down a little later, with his suitcase, his face was white and strained.
She put her arms around his neck. "Jerry," she whispered, "I want to tell you that I love you so much that—I could go away with you, and never see any of them any more, or papa, or the parsonage, and still feel rich, if I just had you! You—everything in me seems to be all yours. I—love you."
Her tremulous lips were pressed against his.
"Oh, sweetheart, this is folly, all folly. But I can't make you see it. It is wrong, it is wickedly wrong, but——"
"But I am all they have, Jerry, and—I promised."
"Whenever you want me, Prudence, just send. I'll never change. I'll always be just the same. God intended you for me, I know, and—I'll be waiting."
"Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!" she whispered passionately, sobbing, quivering in his arms. It was he who drew away.
"Good-by, sweetheart," he said quietly, great pity in his heart for the girl who in her desire to do right was doing such horrible wrong. "Good-by, sweetheart. Remember, I will be waiting. Whenever you send, I will come."
He stepped outside, and closed the door. Prudence stood motionless, her hands clenched, until she could no longer hear his footsteps. Then she dropped on the floor, and lay there, face downward, until she heard Fairy moving in her room up-stairs. Then she went into the kitchen and built the fire for breakfast.