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 makes it yours. To love a thing is to possess it. And I shall always have the happiness of feeling that it has made you happy."

She turned away a face glowing with shame. She could never hope to feel about it in the way that he did, and it seemed almost wicked to deceive him. But a young man so poor as he could not afford to be so simple; and she soothed her conscience by telling herself what she was now doing was for his future good.

Conscience, however, was not to be put out of action that way. The part she was playing hurt like a scald on the hand. Both their tongues were tied by the pause which followed, and then she said in a weak, halting manner that was not like her: "You must have something in exchange for it, of course—not that I shall ever be able to offer anything near its true value."

"I ask no more than what you have given me already."

"What have I given you?"

"You have given me the wonderful look I see sometimes in your face, and the light that springs from your eyes and the glow of your hair. When you came to this house, you brought something with you that was never in it before."

"How funny you are!" June's cheek was a flame. But he spoke so impersonally, delicately weighing each word before a passion of sincerity gave it birth, that any effective form of rebuke was out of the question.

"Miss June," this amazing fellow went on, speaking for all the world as if she were a picture whose signature he was looking for, "when you came here, you brought the sun of beauty. Colour and harmony and grace, you brought those too. If only I knew how to