I knew one once, more than thirty years ago, who was like that: he died a long time ago.
And sometimes I take out his picture, with its cane and its queer silk hat, and look at it.
But of late years it has grown too painful: he is always a boy—and I am an old woman.
I would not bring him back if I could.
Perhaps it was some such memory that made me call out sharply.
"Come in, Halsey."
And then I took my sewing and went into the boudoir beyond, to play propriety.
I did not try to hear what they said, but every word came through the open door with curious distinctness.
Halsey had evidently gone over to the bed and I suppose he kissed her.
There was silence for a moment, as if words were superfluous things.
"I have been almost wild, sweetheart,"—Halsey's voice.
"Why didn't you trust me, and send for me before?"
"It was because I couldn't trust myself," she said in a low tone.
"I am too weak to struggle to-day; oh, Halsey, how I have wanted to see you!"
There was something I did not hear, then Halsey again.
"We could go away," he was saying.
"What does it matter about any one in the world but just the two of us?
To be always together, like this, hand in hand; Louise—don't tell me it isn't going to be.
I won't believe you."
"You don't know; you don't know," Louise repeated dully.
"Halsey, I care—you know that—but—not enough to marry you."
"That is not true, Louise," he said sternly.
"You can not look at me with your honest eyes and say that."
"I can not marry you," she repeated miserably.
"It's bad enough, isn't it?
Don't make it worse.
Some day, before long, you will be glad."
"Then it is because you have never loved me." There were depths of hurt pride in his voice.
"You saw how much I loved you, and you let me think you cared—for a while.
No—that isn't like you, Louise.
There is something you haven't told me.
Is it—because there is some one else?"
"Yes," almost inaudibly.
"Louise!
Oh, I don't believe it."
"It is true," she said sadly.
"Halsey, you must not try to see me again.
As soon as I can, I am going away from here—where you are all so much kinder than I deserve.
And whatever you hear about me, try to think as well of me as you can.
I am going to marry—another man.
How you must hate me—hate me!"
I could hear Halsey cross the room to the window.
Then, after a pause, he went back to her again.
I could hardly sit still; I wanted to go in and give her a good shaking.
"Then it's all over," he was saying with a long breath.
"The plans we made together, the hopes, the—all of it—over!
Well, I'll not be a baby, and I'll give you up the minute you say
'I don't love you and I do love—some one else'!"
"I can not say that," she breathed, "but, very soon, I shall marry—the other man."
I could hear Halsey's low triumphant laugh.