"_You--you_!" She did not lift her eyes, but began to move away from him with little backward steps.

When she reached the bench on the bank, she spoke with a quick intake of breath and in a voice he scarcely heard.

It was the merest whisper, and her words came so slowly that sometimes minutes separated them.
"Can you--will you keep me--on the 'Herald' ?" "Keep you----" "Will you--let me--help ?" He came near her.

"I don't understand.

Is it you--you--who are here again ?" "Have you--forgiven me?
You know now why I wouldn't--resign?
You forgive my--that telegram ?" "What telegram ?" "That one that came to you--this morning." "_Your_ telegram ?" "Yes." "Did you send me one ?" "Yes." "It did not come to me." "Yes--it did." "But there--What was it about ?" "It was signed," she said, "it was signed--" She paused and turned half way, not lifting the downcast lashes; her hand, laid upon the arm of the bench, was shaking; she put it behind her.