"You love her,--tell her so!" Errington laid one hand earnestly on his shoulder.
"Ah, George, you don't understand!" he said in a low tone, while his face was grave and full of trouble.

"I used to think I was fairly brave, but I find I am a positive coward.

I dare not tell her! She--Thelma--is not like other women.

You may think me a fool,--I dare say you do,--but I swear to you I am afraid to speak, because--because, old boy,--if she were to refuse me,--if I knew there was no hope--well, I don't want to be sentimental,--but my life would be utterly empty and worthless,--so useless, that I doubt if I should care to live it out to the bitter end!" Lorimer heard him in silence,--a silence maintained partly out of sympathy, and partly that he might keep his own feelings well under control.
"But why persist in looking at the gloomy side of the picture ?" he said at last.

"Suppose she loves you ?" "Suppose an angel flew down from Heaven!" replied Philip, with rather a sad smile.