“Oh, I am so sorry,” she said, speaking with difficulty, “but I wanted you to get this before nine.”
“Never mind, darling,” he answered, smiling; “you can tell me all about it—it will be sweeter to hear you talk. Which way shall we go?”
“I really don’t think I can now; father doesn’t know I am out. This letter will—”
“No, no; I cannot bear to part with you. How pretty you look in that hat! Come.”
“No, Frank, I cannot now, and you had better leave me. I cannot walk with you to-night. Read this letter.”
“Then am I—is it really so?” said Frank, growing suddenly pale. “You will not have me?”
“You must read this letter, it will tell you all. I am truly sorry, but I did not know you cared for me—at least not like that. I don’t think I could, I really don’t. But I don’t know what I am sayin
