“Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. Her sense followed the shoulders under his coat, down to where his flexible, sensitive-looking hand rested lightly upon the table. They will guess that I am English. ’ ‘Where, then?’ Melusine asked again. Do you know, Lady Ferringhall, I am proud that your sister permits me to call myself her friend. She visited the corner that had been her own little garden—her forget-me-nots and candytuft had long since been elbowed into insignificance by weeds; she visited the raspberry-canes that had sheltered that first love affair with the little boy in velvet, and the greenhouse where she had been wont to read her secret letters. Why don’t you wait and see if you do truly love me, then I can believe you? Then I know I am worth waiting for. By and by he ventured to peer into this window. I am loved. He's a nice boy, a good student.
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