When the Shadows Lengthen
The last of the packing was done, and four trunks stood in the lower hall, waiting for the expressman. Alden had not seen Edith that day, though he had haunted the house since breakfast, waiting and hoping for even a single word.
She had been too busy to come down to luncheon, and had eaten only a little from the tray Madame sent to her room. She was to take the early train in the morning.
The afternoon shadows had begun to lengthen when she came down, almost as white as her fresh linen gown, but diffusing about her some radiance from within that seemed not wholly of earth. He met her at the foot of the stairs, and took her hand in his.
"Edith! I've been longing for you all day!"
"And I for you," she returned, avoiding his eyes.
"Listen, dear. Give me the rest of it, won't you?"
For the Last Time
"The rest of what?"
"The little time you have left with us—this afternoon and to-night."