Kiss me--the last time--on my lips!' He kissed her.

When the light came again to his eyes, Beatrice had gone.
In the evening Emily sat expectant.

Either Wilfrid would come or there would be a letter from him; yes, he would come; for, after reading what she had written, the desire to speak with her must be strong in him.

She sat at her window and looked along the dull street.
She had spent the day as usual--that is to say, in the familiar school routine; but the heart she had brought to her work was far other than that which for long years had laboriously pulsed the flagging moments of her life.

Her pupils were no longer featureless beings, the sole end of whose existence was to give trouble; girl-children and budding womanhood had circled about her; the lips which recited lessons made unconscious music; the eyes, dark or sunny, laughed with secret foresight of love to come.