"
But George was persistent; moreover, he had become serious during the
last minute or two. "I want to know," he said. "I really mean it."
"Let's don't be serious, George," she begged him hopefully. "Let's
talk of something pleasant."
He was a little offended. "Then it isn't pleasant for you to know
that I want to marry you?"
At this she became as serious as he could have asked; she looked down,
and her lip quivered like that of a child about to cry. Suddenly she
put her hand upon one of his for just an instant, and then withdrew
it.
"Lucy!" he said huskily. "Dear, what's the matter? You look as if
you were going to cry. You always do that," he went on plaintively,
"whenever I can get you to talk about marrying me."
"I know it," she murmured.
"Well, why do you?"
Her eyelids flickered, and then she looked up at him with a sad
gravity, tears seeming just at the poise. "One reason's because I
have a feeling that it's never going to be."
"Why?"
"It's just a feeling."
"You haven't any reason or--"
"It's just a feeling.
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