Bryce's brisk step on the thick carpet of withered brown twigs
aroused Shirley from her reverie. When she looked up, he was standing
in the centre of the little amphitheatre gazing at her.
"You--you!" she stammered, and rose as if to flee from him.
"The governor sent me back to look for his handkerchief, Shirley," he
explained. "He didn't tell me you were here. Guess he didn't hear
you." He advanced smilingly toward her. "I'm tremendously glad to see
you to-day, Shirley," he said, and paused beside her. "Fate has been
singularly kind to me. Indeed, I've been pondering all day as to just
how I was to arrange a private and confidential little chat with you,
without calling upon you at your uncle's house."
"I don't feel like chatting to-day," she answered a little drearily--
and then he noted her wet lashes. Instantly he was on one knee beside
her; with the amazing confidence that had always distinguished him in
her eyes, his big left arm went around her, and when her hands went
to her face, he drew them gently away.
"I've waited too long, sweetheart," he murmured. "Thank God, I can
tell you at last all the things that have been accumulating in my
heart. I love you, Shirley. I've loved you from that first day we met
at the station, and all these months of strife and repression have
merely served to make me love you the more.
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