So long ago it seemed to her, who had since
travelled miles along the road of Experience and Feeling, that the Bridge
Street boarder had made love to her when he should have made love to
Bessie. He had paid her the greatest compliment it was in his power to
pay, and of late she had begun to understand something of what he might
have suffered; she wished to be kind to him and to make amends.
So, sweetly appreciative of all she saw, she walked at his side, down the
little paths, helped him to remember the names of the annuals, admired the
view of the back-yard through a vista of trellis-work arches.
"Do you like it?" he asked her.
Deleah, with her artless desire to please, declared that she liked it very
much.
He turned away with a long-drawn breath of content "Come indoors," he
commanded. He walked in front to lead the way, but stopped suddenly on the
little path and turned to ask her if she knew how long it was since he and
she had talked together.
"Quite a long time, isn't it?" Deleah answered him. "But I have not been
living at home, you know; I--"
He cut her short abruptly. "It is five months three weeks and two days,"
he said. "But the time has not been long to me. Looking back it seems that
the time has almost flown.
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