and came across to me and took and dropped my hand and stood still. “What is it you want with me?” she asked.
The speech I had been turning over and over in my mind on the way vanished at the sight of her.
“I want to talk to you,” I answered lamely.
For some seconds neither of us said a word.
“I want to tell you things about my life,” I began.
She answered with a scarcely audible “yes.”
“I almost asked you to marry me at Pangbourne,” I plunged. “I didn't. I didn't because—because you had too much to give me.”
“Too much!” she echoed, “to give you!” She had lifted her eyes to my face and the colour was coming into her cheeks.
“Don't misunderstand me,” I said hastily. “I want to tell you things, things you don't know. Don't answer me. I want to tell you.”
She stood before the