“Oh, you blessed boy!” cried Anne in spite of herself.
Gently she disengaged her hands.
“It’s a lot to be able to think of each other in the way we now shall.”
“I’d better take you back again. Oh, Anne, I was ready with arguments that you never could have answered, and I haven’t spoken one of them! Isn’t there another side? Couldn’t you hear me, even yet? I don’t know what you did to me, but all my arguments seemed answered when you began to speak.”
“We’ve settled it, Kit, and I’m too tired to argue. I think you answered yourself as you went along, only you had not consciously heard the answers. You are no sophist, dear Kit! So when I spoke of duty it needed no more than the word. You had argued on the surface of your mind, but all the time your will stood true! I’m proud of you, dear Kit, and thankful that I did not love a man less fine than my husband is. I do love Richard, Kit; we both well may love him. I’m a little tired. Yes, please take me back,” Anne ended, abruptly.
“You are deadly white and you’re thinner, Anne,” said Kit, forgetting his pain in anxiety as he looked at the sweet, weary face beside him.
“Just tired; that’s all,” said Anne, smiling. “I haven’t slept much of late. I fancy we both find that night brings the enemy’s hardest attacks. You are thinner, too. Have you plans?”
“To go away soon, to New York, and go into business there,” said Kit, accepting her lead.
They talked quietly as they returned homeward, till just before they reached Latham Street, Kit stopped short.
“It can’t be good-bye so casually, Anne! Am I mad that I give you up like this, or have you put a spell upon me? I think I’m dreaming and must awaken. It’s like a nightmare in which you can’t move,” he said, hoarsely.