"Then I should be very—proud of you."
"And if I lost?"
"Then you would be—"
"Yes?"
"Just—"
"Yes, Cleone?"
"My, Barnabas! Ah, no, no!" she whispered suddenly, "you are crushing me—dreadfully, and besides, that boy has terribly sharp eyes!" and Cleone nodded to where Master Milo stood, some distance away, with his innocent orbs lifted pensively towards the heavens, more like a cherub than ever.
"But he's not looking, and oh, Cleone,—how can I bear to leave you so soon? You are more to me than anything else in the world. You are my life, my soul,—my honor,—oh my dear!"
"Do you—love me so very much, Barnabas?" said she, with a sudden catch in her voice.
"And always must! Oh my dear, my dear,—don't you know? But indeed, words are so small and my love is so great that I fear you can never quite guess, or I tell it all."