He tried to gather her into his arms, but she slid away from him and cried, "No--no, Bob--no!" "Why--why--why! what's wrong ?" gasped the youth.
The girl sank on the seat and covered her face with her hands.

He touched her shoulder and her hair with his finger-tips, and she shivered away from him.

"Oh, Bob--Bob, Bob!--" she cried in agony, still looking at the grass before her.
The young man looked at her in perplexity.

"Why, dear--why--why, darling--why, Molly," he stammered, "why--why--" She rose and faced him.

She gripped herself, and he could feel the unnatural firmness in her voice as she spoke.
"Bob, I am not the little girl you left." He put out his arms, but she shrank back among the lilacs; their perfume was in her face, and she was impressed with that odd feeling one sometimes has of having had some glimpse of it all before.