"You know," I replied.
"But tell me, tell me!"
"I can't," I replied; "words only mock me; they would only suggest the faintest shadow of what fills my life. The barriers are gone! What has wrought the change?"
"Are you sure you are strong enough to hear? Oh, it is wrong of me to speak to you like this, and you so weak!"
"Your every word is giving me new life," was my reply; "tell me everything."
"And you are sure, sure—that—that——"
"That I see in you the woman God meant you to be," was my reply. "But what has wrought the change?"
"I can hardly find words to tell you, it seems so unreal, so—so beyond the power of words to express. But—but years ago I could not love; I longed to love and could not; something held me back, what, I didn't know. I tried to break down that something. I—I was called a flirt, you know," and she laughed nervously.
"Yes, yes, I remember," I said.
"I did it as an experiment. I fancied that somehow if I won the love of some one, the casement around my heart would break, would melt away; but it was no use. And all the time I knew that I was missing the joy of life. Then you came. Yes, you were right; I thought I saw in you one who might break the hard crust around my heart, and I tried to fascinate you, tried to—to—do what you said. You remember?"