Good night." He offered his hand; she laid both of hers in it.

He could scarcely distinguish her features where she stood dark against the brilliant light behind her.
"Good-bye," he whispered, kissing her hands where they lay in his.
"Good-bye." Her fingers closed convulsively, retaining his hands.

"I hope--I think that--you--" Her head was drooping; she could not control her voice.
"Good-bye, Sylvia," he said again.
It was quite useless, she could not speak; and when he took her in his arms she clung to him, quivering; and he kissed the wet lashes, and the hot, trembling lips, and the smooth little hands crushed to his breast.
"We have a year yet," she gasped.

"Dear, take me by force before it ends.

I--I simply cannot endure this.