Page:Conflict (1927).pdf/128

 I mean,' she added, struggling against it, trying to push it away, 'I mean I'

'You went away without a word.'

'I know. The doctor thought it was better.'

'And you never answered my letter.'

'I never knew you wrote me a letter.'

'I did. In the fall.'

The color mounted to Sheilah's cheeks.

'They didn't show it to me. That wasn't fair. I was fair with them. What did you say in your letter?'

'Not much. Only that I wished you'd write once in a while, and that I felt just the same. About you, I mean. And I guess I always will.' His sentence came brokenly with pauses between, like confessions spoken unwillingly. 'I can't help it. I see you all the time. Like the last time. In the ice-house. At night I see you. After the lights are out. When it's dark. Every night. I haven't skipped a night.'

'Oh, you mustn't! You mustn't!'

Her light banter had disappeared entirely now. Her brave defense of simple comradeship had been swept away. How was it, that crude and uncouth as Felix was, lacking in all the qualities she admired most, he possessed the power to do this thing to her—to wipe out intervening years and sweep her back to a time and place long left behind? 'You mustn't, you mustn't,' had been the identical words she had