He tried to take it from her, but his own hand trembled so that it clung to hers, and he gasped, "Can't you say now, what you wouldn't say then ?" The logical sequence was no more obvious than be fore; but she apparently felt it in her turn as he had felt it in his.

She whispered back, "Yes," and then she could not get out anything more till she entreated in a half-stifled voice, "Oh, don't!" "No, no!" he panted.

"I won't--I oughtn't to have done it--I beg your pardon--I oughtn't to have spoken,--even--I--" She returned in a far less breathless and tremulous fashion, but still between laughing and crying, "I meant to make you.

And now, if you're ever sorry, or I'm ever too topping about anything, you can be perfectly free to say that you'd never have spoken if you hadn't seen that I wanted you to." "But I didn't see any such thing," he protested.

"I spoke because I couldn't help it any longer." She laughed triumphantly.