"That would spoil my pleasure and my gift, too. It's only valuable because it's unique."
"Whatever it is it's sure to be that."
"I don't mean in that way altogether—" he hesitated, for he had touched a part of his subject which had to be handled gently; and he was aware that in handling it at all he was courting rejection of the gift.
"And you are going to leave it with me now?"
"Yes."
She did not look up, but kept her eyes fixed on the sheets that lay in her lap, her hands lightly covering them. Was it possible that her finger-tips had caught the secret of the page beneath them and that their delicate nerves had already carried it to her brain? Was she considering what she was to do?
"You will see that one page is left blank; I couldn't fill it up till I knew whether you would accept the dedication."
"I?" She looked up. She was no doubt surprised; but he thought he could read something in her look that was deeper and sweeter than surprise.
"If you could, it would give me great pleasure. It's the only acknowledgement I can make for all your kindness."
"Please, please don't talk of my kindness."