Yes, he replied, rising to shake hands with her, I am.
Aren't you coming to say good-bye to me?
Of course I am, Gareth assured her. I'll come to see you whenever you suggest.
When are you going?
In two or three days.
Will tomorrow evening . . . ?
That will be fine. I am leaving some books for you, he added, as she was turning away.
O, Gareth, how kind of you!
I want you to have them.
He delivered the books that same afternoon, and the conversation the next evening on the little porch of the Colman home began with a reference to them.
It's wonderful of you to give me those books, Gareth, the school-teacher said. It makes me very happy . . . and a little sad. We've read so many of them together.
I thought of that. That's why I gave them to you.
But why are you giving them away at all? You'll want them yourself when you come back.
No, Miss Colman, I won't want them. I'm going to begin all over. I'll get a new library.
The conversation lagged. It was becoming more and more difficult for them to talk with each other. In her mind and in his, also, rose a memory of the Countess. Gareth began to wish that he had
