in a whisper, sometimes breaking
into a sob, she told him the story of
that November night. He could hardly
hear it through.

"Love, you loved me! You will
marry me."

"No; I am a wicked girl--a--a--an
immodest girl--"

"My beloved, you meant no wrong--"
He paused, seeing that she was not
listening.

Her father and the doctor were coming
down the garden path; William
King, beaming with satisfaction at the
proximity of those two heads, had summoned
Henry Roberts to "come along
and give 'em your blessing!"

But as he reached them, standing now
apart, the doctor's smile faded--evidently
something had happened. John
Fenn, tense with distress, called to him
with frowning command: "Doctor! Tell
her, for heaven's sake, tell her that it
was nothing--that charm! Tell her she
did no wrong."