There was a long silence. She could feel rather than see the struggle in the man’s face, but the pressure tightened on her hand, foretelling that the decision would be what she wished.
“Yes,” he said slowly at last. “I promise! An hour ago it seemed as if there was not a soul in the world who cared whether I lived or died, but as you say you came to me—in the darkness! You think you were sent. My old mother would have thought the same. I don’t know, I can’t tell, but it may be so, and that gives me courage to try again.”
He paused for a moment or two, then suddenly—
“What is your name?” he asked.
“Betty!”
“Betty!” His voice lingered over the pretty, girlish name. “Thank you, Betty!”
“And yours?”
“Ralph.”
“Thank you, Ralph! You have given me something real to think of in life—something to look forward to.”
“Ah!” He drew a long, stabbing breath. “But at the best it will be a long waiting. You will be far from eighteen—‘nearly eighteen’—before I can hope for success. The years will seem very long.”