e said; "and she did not even take the trouble to look
at you. You might have looked at it, Grizel. I have looked at it a
good deal. It meant something to me once upon a time when I was a vain
fool. Take it and look at it before you fling it away. It will make
you laugh."

Now she knew, and her arms rocked convulsively. Joy surged to her
face, and she drove it back. She looked at him steadfastly over the
collar of her jacket; she looked long, as if trying to be suspicious
of him for the last time. Ah, Grizel, you are saying good-bye to your
best friend!

As she looked at him thus there was a mournfulness in her brave face
that went to Tommy's heart and almost made a man of him. It was as if
he knew that she was doomed.

"Grizel," he cried, "don't look at me in that way!" And he would have
taken the package from her, but she pressed it to her heart.

"Don't come with me," she said almost in a whisper, and went away.

He did not go back to the house. He wandered into the country, quite
objectless when he was walking fastest, seeing nothing when he stood
still and stared. Elation and dread were his companions. What elation
whispered he could not yet believe; no, he could not believe it. While
he listened he knew that he must be making up the words. By and by he
found himself among the shadows of the Den. If he had loved Grizel he
would have known that it was here she would come, to the sweet Den
where he and she had played as children, the spot where she had loved
him first. She had always loved him--always, always. He did not know
what figure it was by the Cuttle Well until he was quite close to
her. She was kissing the glove passionately, and on her eyes lay
little wells of gladness.

CHAPTER XIII

LITTLE WELLS OF GLADNESS

It was dusk, and she had not seen him. In the silent Den he stood
motionless within a few feet of her, so amazed to find that Grizel
really loved him that for the moment self was blotted out of his mind.
He remembered he was there only when he heard his heavy breathing, and
then he tried to check it that he might steal away undiscovered.
Divers emotions fought for the possession of him. He was in the
meeting of many waters, each capable of whirling him where it chose,
but two only imperious: the one the fierce joy of being loved; the
other an agonizing remorse. He would fain have stolen away to think
this tremendous thing over, but it tossed him forward. "Grizel," he
said in a husky