me to find out.'

'You didn't. I did tell. Oh, Dick, what's the use of worrying?'

'There isn't any; but we've been together years and years, and I didn't
know how much I cared.'

'I don't believe you ever did care.'

'No, I didn't; but I do,--I care awfully now, Maisie,' he
gulped,--'Maisie, darling, say you care too, please.'

'I do, indeed I do; but it won't be any use.'

'Why?'

'Because I am going away.'

'Yes, but if you promise before you go. Only say--will you?' A second
'darling' came to his lips more easily than the first. There were few
endearments in Dick's home or school life; he had to find them by
instinct. Dick caught the little hand blackened with the escaped gas of
the revolver.

'I promise,' she said solemnly; 'but if I care there is no need for
promising.'

'And do you care?' For the first time in the past few minutes their eyes
met and spoke for them who had no skill in speech. . . .