"Don't go, don't go.

I've been so lonely to-night--and last night too--all this year--all my life," he suddenly cried.
"I--I--I've forgotten the sugar." "But I never take sugar in my tea." "But it's rather cold, and I've spilled it--almost all of it." "I'll drink it from the saucer." Old Grannis had drawn up his armchair for her.
"Oh, I shouldn't.

This is--this is SO--You must think ill of me." Suddenly she sat down, and resting her elbows on the table, hid her face in her hands.
"Think ILL of you ?" cried Old Grannis, "think ILL of you?
Why, you don't know--you have no idea--all these years--living so close to you, I--I--" he paused suddenly.

It seemed to him as if the beating of his heart was choking him.
"I thought you were binding your books to-night," said Miss Baker, suddenly, "and you looked tired.

I thought you looked tired when I last saw you, and a cup of tea, you know, it--that--that does you so much good when you're tired.