"Sometime I'll come back and see it all completed and tell myself that I had a little part in making it."
"Come back?" he queried. "Why, you're going to stay till we're through, aren't you?"
"Oh no! I'm going south with the spring flight—on the next boat, perhaps."
His face fell; the exultant light gradually faded from his eyes.
"Why—I had no idea! Aren't you happy here?"
She nodded. "But I must try to make good in my work as you have in yours."
He was looking at her sorrowfully, almost as if she had deserted him. "That's too bad, but—I suppose you must go. Yes; this is no place for you. I dare say other people need you to bring sunshine and joy to them just as we old fellows do, but—I've never thought about your leaving. It wouldn't be right to ask you to stay here among such people as we are when you have so much ahead of you. Still, it will leave a gap. Yes—it certainly will—leave a gap."
She longed desperately to tell him how willingly she would stay if he only asked her, but the very thought shocked her into a deeper reserve.
"I'm going East to sell my book," she said, stiffly. "You've given me the climax of the story in this race with the seasons."
"Is it a—love story?" he asked.