"Dear Aunt Lois, not more glad than I am to see you"—and, as he spoke, Alan kneeled at the couch and kissed the frail hand that had been held out to him.
"I would have so eagerly seen you at once on my arrival," he resumed, "but I was given your message—that you had one of your seasons of suffering, and could not see me. You have been in pain, Aunt Lois?"
"Yes, dear, I am dying."
"Dying! Oh, no, no, no! You don't mean that. And besides——"
"Why should I not mean it? Why should I fear it, Alan? Has life meant so much to me of late years that I should wish to prolong it?"
"But you have endured so long!"
"A bitter reason truly!... and one too apt to a woman! Well, enough of this. Alan, I want to speak to you about yourself. But first tell me one thing. Do you love any woman?"
"Yes, with all my heart, with all my life, I love a woman."
"Have you told her so? Has she betrothed herself to you?"
"Yes."