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 her to this reckless mood. "My wishes! What are my wishes? Sometimes one thing and sometimes another. To-night for instance &hellip;"

He was in the corner of the sofa, she on the high fender stool in the firelight. There were only oil lamps in the room, and she and the fireside shone more brightly than they.

When she said softly, "To-night for instance," she got up; her eyes seemed to challenge him. He rose too, and would have taken her in his arms, but that she resisted.

"No, no, no, you don't really want to &hellip; talking is enough for you."

"You strange Margaret," he said tenderly.

"I sometimes wonder if you care for me or only for my talk," she said with a nervous laugh.

"If you only knew." His arms remained about her.

"If I only knew!" she exclaimed. "Tell me," she whispered coaxingly.

"How I long for this waiting time to be at an end. To woo you, win you. You say anything approaching physical love is hateful and abhorrent to you. Yet, if I thought &hellip; Margaret!"

She did not repel him, although his arms were around her. And now, reverently, softly, he sought and found her unreluctant lips. One of the lamps flickered and went out. His arms tightened about her; she had not thought to be so happy in any man's