Cynthia / With an Introduction by Maurice Hewlett

by Leonard Merrick

"It has been delicious," she murmured, looking up at the stars. "Only you let me bore you."

"By talking of yourself?"

"So stupid of me!"

"You know," said Kent—"you know!"

"I wanted to tell you; you won't think so badly of me, perhaps."

"I?"

"I'm sure you have. Now, sometimes?"

"If I confessed my thoughts, you'd never say so any more."

"Really?" Her eyes flashed mockery. "You mustn't tell me, then—I might be vain."

The cab bowled over the white roads rapidly. The flutter of her scarf on his shoulder stole through his blood, and the clip-clop sound of the horse's hoofs seemed to him to waken echoes in his inside.