"Now," she said, a shy smile creeping over her lips, "kiss me once—we are friends, parting for ever."
He bent his head; he kissed her, not once, but fifty times.
"Great God!" he said, hoarsely, "how can I go? How can I part with her now?"
"Is it hard?" she said. "Poor Bob," touching his face gently with her slender fingers, "have I made it harder? I must go now and you must go to-morrow; put me down."
He did not obey, he held her close.
"Who is it that you love?" he asked.
She looked straight into his eyes.
"Is it fair to ask?" she answered. "And does it matter—you go to-morrow?"
"Yes, I go to-morrow."
She reached her arms upward as she had once before; she lifted herself a little in his embrace, and laid her cheek against his.