“I’ve lost mine,” said Jem. “And everything in life with it—if you go, now.”
“Forgive me. And believe that I never meant to hurt you. If I have, it was my ignorance.”
“Ignorance? You? I wish I could see your face now, to see how wise it is!”
“You are smiling at me again,” she said. “But I am not wise. I am very foolish. And I am very young. Jem, do you know how old I am?”
“Sometimes I’ve thought you must be at least a hundred.”
“I am not eighteen yet, Jem. Indeed, I am not. I once told you that I was old, as a child. So you must forgive me and believe me.”
“I’ll do anything but give you up.”
“That, too,” she said very low. She set her hand trustfully within his arm. “Come. You must take me home.”
It was a silent walk; the girl full of musings; the man of a grim, dogged determination. At the rose-bowered steps he took her hand.
“To-morrow,” he said. “I’ll be here directly I finish my work. No; I’ve got one errand I must do first.”