"Just a—mi—mi—minute——" she quavered. "I—I—love it—and I can't bear it——"

Even so did I love, and yet could scarce bear to hold the tender form in my arms.

Presently we left the mere, mounted the dark lane, and began to cross the common. Her hand was now on my sleeve, and it did not leave it again. Once her fingers made an impulsive little pressure on it, which, I cried sternly to my heart, I must not regard. But God knows the war there was between the sweetness of it and my fortitude.

"Jeff," she said more quietly by-and-by, using that name for the first time. "I—I couldn't have borne it if it hadn't been for you. It was too—too——"

"Never mind, dear," I soothed her. "Let's walk a little more quickly—your aunt will be wondering what's become of you——"

She laughed tremulously. "Kitty will be wondering what's become of you," she said. Then she added timidly, "She's a lucky girl!"

"Oh? Why?" I asked.

"You're so—so——"

But she did not say what.

We turned down Putney Hill.