“Are you going?” she cried, with a ring of real longing and regret in her voice, lifted out of herself for the moment at the thought of losing him.
Dan nodded, and a look of pain came into his face.
“Yes, I am going.”
“But you are not going to leave Antioch?”
“Oh, no!”
And Miss Emory felt a sense of relief. She rose from her chair. “Then I shall see you again?”
“Probably,” smiling. “We couldn't well avoid seeing each other in a place the size of this.”
He held out his hand frankly.
“And I sha'n't see you here any more?” she asked, softly.
“I guess not,” a little roughly. The bitterness of his loss stung him. He felt something was wrong somewhere. He wondered, too, if she had been quite fair to him, if her ability to guard herself was entirely commendable, after all. He knew, in the end, his only memory of her would be that she was beautiful. He would carry this memory and a haunting sense of incompleteness with him wherever he went.