It is the colour of
babies' eyes. And hers look as theirs do--as if they asked everybody not
to hurt them."
He actually fell upon his knee, and bending his head over her hand,
kissed it half a dozen times with adoration. Good Lord, how she SAW and
KNEW!
"If Jane were not Jane, and you were not YOU," the words rushed from
him, "it would be the most outrageous--the most impudent thing a man
ever had the cheek to do."
"But it is not." She did not draw her hand away, and oh, the girlish
kindness of her smiling, supporting look. "You came to ask me if----"
"If you would marry me, Miss Vanderpoel," his head bending over her hand
again. "I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon. Oh Lord, I do.'
"I thank you for the compliment you pay me," she answered. "I like you
very much, Sir Thomas--and I like you just now more than ever--but I
could not marry you. I should not make you happy, and I should not be
happy myself. The truth is----" thinking a moment, "each of us really
belongs to a different kind of person. And each of knows the fact."
"God bless you," he said. "I think you know everything in the world a
woman can know--and remain an angel."
It was an outburst of eloquence, and she took it in the prettiest
way--with the prettiest laugh, which had in it no touch of mockery or
disbelief in him.
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