"What a fool I am to chatter so; it makes you ill." "No, no, Eric, talk on; you can't think how I love to hear you.

Oh, how very beautiful these primroses are! Thank you, thank you, for bringing them." And he again fixed on them the eager dreamy look which had startled Eric--as though he were learning their color and shape by heart.
"I wish I hadn't brought them, though," said Eric, "they are filling your mind with regrets.

But, Eddy, you'll be well by the holidays--a month hence, you know--or else I shouldn't have talked so gladly about them." "No, Eric," said Russell sadly, "these dear flowers are the last spring blossoms that I shall see--_here_ at least.

Yes, I will keep them, for your sake, Eric, till I die." "Oh don't talk so," said Eric, shocked and flustered, "why everybody knows and says that you're getting better." Russell smiled and shook his head.

"No, Eric, I shall die.