"And for me. I read to you, do you remember, just before I kissed you for the first time?"
"Yes. Read to me again just before you kiss me for the last time, then give me the book to keep."
"Which one? The same?"
"No," cried Edith. "Anything but that!"
"Then choose. Close your eyes, and choose."
"It's like seeking for a message, or a sign," she said, as she swiftly turned the pages. Then, with her eyes still closed, she offered him the book. "Here—read this. Is it a blank page?"
Severed Selves
There was a pause, then Edith opened her eyes. "It isn't the first one you read to me, is it? Don't tell me that it is!"
"No," said Alden, "it isn't, but it's a message. Listen."
She sat down, in her old place, but he stood at the table, bending toward the light. His boyish mouth trembled a little, his hands were unsteady, and there was a world of love and pain in his eyes. With his voice breaking upon the words, he read: