"Do you really wish that ?" "It is the greatest wish of my life, and always will be," he added, taking her unresisting hands.
"I like to hear you say it," she answered simply, "and it cannot be wrong, can it?
Is there any wrong in my listening to you?
Yet why do I feel that it is not quite right ?--sometimes I do feel that." "One thing will make all right," he said eagerly; "one thing.

I love you, Guida, love you devotedly.

Do you--tell me if you love me?
Do not fear to tell me, dearest, for then will come the thing that makes all right." "I do not know," she responded, her heart beating fast, her eyes drooping before him; "but when you go from me, I am not happy till I see you again.

When you are gone, I want to be alone that I may remember all you have said, and say it over to myself again.

When I hear you speak I want to shut my eyes, I am so happy; and every word of mine seems clumsy when you talk to me; and I feel of how little account I am beside you.
Is that love, Philip--Philip, do you think that is love ?" They were standing now.