" At the last word his heart gave a jump
that seemed to lodge it in his throat and kept him from speaking, so that
she could resume without interruption, "I've got something of yours, that
you left at the Posthof. The girl that broke the dishes found it, and
Lili gave it to Mrs. March for you." This did not account for Agatha's
having the thing, whatever it was; but when she took a handkerchief from
her belt, and put out her hand with it toward him, he seemed to find that
her having it had necessarily followed. He tried to take it from her, but
his own hand trembled so that it clung to hers, and he gasped, "Can't you
say now, what you wouldn't say then?"
The logical sequence was no more obvious than be fore; but she apparently
felt it in her turn as he had felt it in his. She whispered back, "Yes,"
and then she could not get out anything more till she entreated in a
half-stifled voice, "Oh, don't!"
"No, no!" he panted. "I won't--I oughtn't to have done it--I beg your
pardon--I oughtn't to have spoken,--even--I--"
She returned in a far less breathless and tremulous fashion, but still
between laughing and crying, "I meant to make you. And now, if you're
ever sorry, or I'm ever too topping about anything, you can be perfectly
free to say that you'd never have spoken if you hadn't seen that I wanted
you to.
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