She lingered a moment, glanced at the stream running gold in the afternoon light, then turned away, bidding him good-bye in a low voice.
"Are you g-going?" he blurted out, not knowing exactly what he was saying.
She moved on in silence. He looked after her. A perfectly illogical feeling of despair overwhelmed him.
"For Heaven's sake, don't go away!" he said.
She moved on a pace, another, more slowly, hesitated, halted, leisurely looked back over her shoulder.
"What did you say?" she asked.
"I said—I said—I said——" but he began to stammer fearfully and could get no farther.
Perhaps she thought he was threatened with some kind of seizure; anyway, something about him apparently interested her enough to slowly retrace her steps.
"What is the matter, Mr. Sayre?" she asked.
"Why, that's funny!" he said; "you know my name?"