He repeated the name slowly, and each repetition was a wound.
“Mary,” he said, wonderingly, “there is no Mary in the Dream. There are only you and I—and you are Love——”
“And if I went out of the Dream?” said Elizabeth, leaning against his breast. The comfort of his touch stole back into her heart. Her breathing steadied.
“Then I would come and find you,” said David Blake.
It was the next day that Agneta’s letter came. Elizabeth opened it at breakfast and exclaimed.
“What is it?”
She lifted a face of distress.
“David, should you mind if I were to go away for a little? Agneta wants me.”
“Agneta?”
“Yes, Agneta Mainwaring. You remember, I used to go and stay with the Mainwarings in Devonshire.”