He scarcely heard. Love, love, love—everything was singing it tumultuously.
“Claudia!” he cried.
Chapter Six.
The tone in which Harry cried “Claudia!” pierced through even her unconsciousness. She looked at him, startled. He was breathing heavily, altogether unlike himself.
“I must speak,” he said. “Haven’t you guessed how I love you?”
“You?” she exclaimed in unmistakable amazement. “What can you be thinking of?” and something in her manner brought back his self-control.
“There’s nothing so wonderful about it, is there?” he said slowly. “I suppose it began from the first moment I saw you, and it has gone on. Can’t you give me a little hope? I know you’re a lot too good for me—”
“Oh, don’t say any more, don’t!”