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It was a night of splendour with a fullin ht very warm and still and we silent, I think because of the tender beauty of the night

"Martin," says my companion softly at last, "here is another day sped--"

"Alas, andat me askance

"Our days fly all too fast, Daht"

"It hath been a very wonderful tiht me very much We are both the better for it, I think, and you--"

"What of rown so entler since your sickness, so much more , Dalad!" says she alht s, to rule myself that I--I may soinning to flounder, I ca about inme, the dimple in her cheek, but her eyes all compassionate and ineffably tender

"Dear man!" says she, and reacheddown at these slender fingers, yet not daring to kiss them lest my passion sweep me away, "you know that I do love you?"

"Yes, Martin"

"And that, my love, be it what it may, is yet an honest love?"

"Yes, dear Martin"

Here was silence a while, she looking up at the moon, and I at her

"I broke ain, but, dear er and thirst for you, yet ether long years--aye, until the end of our lives, I will school h 'twill be hard!" says I 'twixt ers

"But, Martin," says she softly, "how if our days together here should all suddenly end--"

"End?" cries I, starting, "Wherefore end? When? Why end?" And I trembled in a sick panic at the ain, "Would you have an end?"

"No--ah no!" says she leaning to me that I could look down into her eyes

"Doth this--O Damaris, can this mean that you are happy with me in this solitude--content--?"