He did not have to. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. ’ ‘The tables, they are turned, I think,’ she returned. “If I sit here,” he said, standing up before her abruptly, “I shall have to shout. You must come back. " "Don't be angry with me, Sir," cried the widow, sobbing bitterly, "pray don't.
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