"Philly! We will not speak of it--"

"I murdered you," she whispered.
"I put the charm into your tea, to make
you... love me. You didn't die.
But it was murder. I meant--I meant
no harm--"

He understood. He lifted her up
and held her in his arms. Up on the
porch William King saw that the two
heads were close together!

"Why!" the young man said. "Why--
but Philly! You loved me!"

"What difference does that make?"
she said, heavily.

"It makes much difference to me,"
he answered; he put his hand on her
soft hair and tried to press her head down
again on his shoulder. But she drew away.

"No; no."

"But--" he began. She interrupted
him.

"Listen," she said; and then, sometimes