"I am afraid you are suffering. . . . I shall never forgot what I felt when you fell!—My heart ceased beating!"
"It's very sweet of you. But, it's really nothing."
"How precious these few moments with you are! I should like to drive with you for ever! Through life—to eternity!"
"Really! What a funny boy you are!" she said softly.
"Ah, if you only knew, Miss Sinclair, how—how I envy Freddy."
"Oh, Mr. Carington!"
"Don't call me Mr. Carington. It's so cold—so ceremonious. Call me Cecil. Won't you?"
"Very well, Cecil."
"Do you think it treacherous to Freddy for me to envy him—to tell you so?"
"Yes, I am afraid it is; a little."
"Oh no. I don't think it is.—How are you feeling now, Alice?"
"Much better, thanks very much." . . .
Suddenly, to my own surprise and entirely without pre-meditation, I kissed her—as it were, accidentally. It seemed so shocking, that we both pretended I hadn't, and entirely ignored the fact: continuing to argue as to whether or not it was treacherous to say I envied Freddy. . . . I insisted on treating her as an invalid, and lifted her out of the carriage, while she laughed nervously. It struck me that I was not unhappy yet. But that would come.
The next evening we met at a dance. She was wearing flowers that Freddy had sent her; but among them she had fastened one or two of the violets I had worn in my button-hole. I smiled, amused at the coquetry. No doubt she would laugh at me when she thought she had completely turned my head. She fancied mea child!
