Is it true ?" I had pushed away the pile of photographs from me, and had looked up at him when I began, but my voice and courage rather failed before the end, and my eyes fell.

There was a silence--a silence that seemed to stifle me.
"Why do you ask me that question ?" he said, at last, in a low voice.

"Do you believe I am, yourself ?" "No," I cried, springing up, and going over to his side.

"No, I don't believe it.

Tell me it isn't true, and promise me you won't ever, ever marry Charlotte Benson." The relief was so unspeakable that I didn't care what I said, and the joy I felt showed itself in my face and voice.