"Oh, my G.o.d," he groaned. "Nan--are you insane? What if I say it--then how much worse will it be? I can bear it better as it is now--and you--can't mean it."

"_Say it!_" came the breath in his ear again.

He was silent for a while, breathing heavily. Presently he began to speak in a quiet tone whose vibrations showed, nevertheless, the most rigid self-control. He still held her hands, resting there upon his shoulders, but he made no further effort to see her face.

"Nan," he said, "this friendship you give me is the dearest thing I ever knew. It is worth everything to me. Let me keep it while you go away for your year of work. Be the warmest friend to me you know how, and write me everything about yourself. Meanwhile--keep your heart free for--the man will surely come to claim it some day--a man who will be worthy of you in every way, soul, mind, and--body. I shall be happy in your----"

Her hand pulled itself away from his, and was laid with a gentle insistence upon his mouth.

"Jerry," she said very softly, "that's enough--please. I understand.

That had to be said. I knew you would say it. It's what you think you ought to say, of course. But--it's said now. You needn't repeat it. For it's not the thing--I'm waiting for you to say."

"Nan----"

"Would you make a poor girl do it all?" she questioned, with a suggestion of both laughter and tears in her voice.

"But, Nan----"

"I'm not used to it," she urged. "It's very embarra.s.sing. And I ought to be asleep this minute, getting ready for my early start. I'm not quite sure that I shall sleep if you say it"--her voice dropped to a whisper again--"but I'm sure I shall not if--you--don't."

"My dear girl----"

"That's hardly warm enough, is it--under the circ.u.mstances--when you won't see me for a year? Jerry--a whole year----"

"Nan--for the love of Heaven come around here!"

"Not so much for the love of Heaven as----"

"No--for the love of you--you--_you!_"

She came at last--and then she saw his eyes. But she could not meet them after the first glance. She lay in his arms, held there by a grasp so strong that it astonished her beyond measure. So, for a time; then he began to speak--in her ear now, where, in its pinkness, with a little brown curl touching his lips, it listened.

"You've made me say it, dear, when for your sake I would have kept it back. But you know--you must know, nothing can come of it."

He heard her murmur, "Why?"

"You know why."

"I don't."

He drew a deep breath.

"Don't you want me?" she asked--into his shoulder.

"Want you!"

"You've everything to offer me."

"Nan----"

"Everything I want. Jerry"--she lifted her head and looked for an instant into his eyes--"I shall die of heartache if you won't offer it."

"A wreck of a life----"

"I won't let you call it that again," she flashed. "You--Jerrold Fullerton--whose merest scrawl is reviewed by every literary editor in the land. Do you think you can't do still better work with--with me?"

"But you wouldn't be marrying Jerrold Fullerton's mind alone."

"No--his soul--all there is of him--his great personality--himself. And that's so much more than I can give in return----"

"Nan, darling----"

"Yes----"

"Go to Paris for a year, but don't bind yourself to me. Then, when you come back, if----"

"If I'm still of the same mind----Jerry, you sound like the counsel of a wise and worldly grandmother," with a gleeful laugh.

"--if I'm no worse--if I'm a little better----This is great medicine, Nan. I feel like a new man now. If then----"

"I shall not go at all unless--unless----"

"Yes----"

"--unless I am bound tight--tight--to you. I--I shouldn't feel sure of you!"

"Oh, there's no use resisting you," he said, half under his breath.

"It's the sorriest bargain a woman ever made, but----"

"If she will make it----"

"Look at me, Nan."

"I can't--long," she complained. "Somehow you--you--blind me."

He laughed softly. "I realize that--you are blind--blind. But I can't open your eyes. Somehow I'm losing the strength to try."

"I must go now," she said gently, trying to release herself. "Really I must! Yes, I must! Please, Jerry--let me go, dear----Yes, yes--you must!" It took time, however, and was accomplished with extreme difficulty. "But I _can_ go now. I couldn't when I said good-night before----Oh! it's striking twelve! Good-night, Jerry----Merry Christmas, Jerry!"

Before she quite went, however, she came back once more to lean over the back of his chair and whisper in his ear:

"Jerry----"

"Yes?"

"Am I really--engaged--to you?"

"Darling--bless you--I'm afraid you are."