"I wouldn't be--I wouldn't--please come back'"
He was laughing at her, she knew, tender and mocking and caressing;
she smiled back, tremulously.
"You're thinking, 'I told you so!' Have you come far to say it to me?"
Only that little stir--the wind was rising again.
"Jerry, come close--come closer still. What are you waiting for,
dear and dearest?"
This time there was not even a stir to answer her; she felt suddenly
cold to the heart. What had he always waited for?
"You aren't waiting--you aren't waiting to go?" She fought to keep
the terror out of her voice, but it had her by the throat. "Oh, no,
no--you can't--not again! Jerry, Jerry, don't go away and leave
me--truly and truly I can't stand it--truly!"
She wrung her hands together desperately; she was on her knees to
him--did he wish her to go lower still? Oh, she had never learned to
beg!
"I can't send you away again--I can't. When I sent you to France I
killed my heart--when I let you go to death, I crucified my soul. I
haven't anything left but my pride--you can have that, too. I can't
send you back to your heaven. Stay with me--stay with me, Jerry!"
Not a sound--not a stir--but well she knew that he was standing there,
waiting.
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