“I am afraid. I will not be left—I will not be left again! Oh, you won't take me, even when I offer myself to you!”
“Don't—don't tempt me!” Paul caught her to him with a groan. “You don't know me well enough to be afraid of me!”
“You! You will not let me know you.”
“Oh, hush, dear—hush, my darling! This isn't thinking. We must think for our lives. I must take care of you, precious. We don't know where this search may take us, or where it will end, or what the end will be.” He kissed the sleeve of her dress, and put her gently from him, so that he could look her in the eyes. She gave him her full pure gaze.
“It is the poor man again. You said he would spoil our lives.”
“He is our poor man. You didn't go out of your way to find him. And your way is mine.”
“It is so heavenly to be convinced! Who taught you to see things at a glance,—things I have toiled and bungled over and don't know now if I am right! Who taught you?”
“Do you think I stood still while you were away! Oh, my heart was sifted out by little pieces.”
“You shall sift mine. You shall tell me what to do. For I know nothing! Not even if I may dare to take this angel at her word!”
“I knew you would not take me!” the girl whispered wildly. “But I shall go.”