ce at the side, bending over her; but in
front of her, on one knee, silently waiting.

She bent forward. "Take my hand, Boy."

He took it, in a firm unhesitating clasp. They held each other so, in
silence. The colour came back into the Boy's face. The dumb horror
died out of his eyes. They smiled into hers again.

"Now promise me, Boy dear, that you will let me tell you all; and that
you will try not to misunderstand."

"My dearest," said the Boy, "I promise. But I do not need to say I
will try not to misunderstand. I could not misunderstand you, if I
tried."

"Then go back to your chair, Boy."

He went. His eyes were bright again.

"Boy, please to understand that I am not engaged to the Professor. Of
course, had that been the case, I should have told you, long ago. He
has never said one word to me of love or marriage. But he has been a
great friend--an intimate friend, intellectually; and I have reason to
know that he wishes--has wished for years--a good deal more than he has
ever expressed to me. He has waited, Boy; and when anybody has waited
nearly twelve years, could one fail them?"

"Why, of course!" cried the Boy, eagerly. "If a man could wait twelve
years--good heavens, why shouldn't he wait twenty! A man has no
business to wait; or to be able to wait; or to keep a woman waiting.
Twelve years? Oh, I say! I didn't wait twelve days. Now, did I?"

She smiled. "You break all speed records, Boy, always. But cannot you
understand that all men have not fifty thousand a year, and the world
at their feet? Had you been penniless, Boy, you--even you--would have
had to wait."

"Not a bit!" said the Boy, stoutly. "I would drive a cab, I would
sweep a crossing, I would _do_ anything, or _be_ anything; but I
wouldn't wait for the woman I loved; nor would I"--his voice dropped
almost to a whisper--"keep the woman who loved me, waiting."

"But suppose she had a comfortable little income of her own; and you
had less--much less--to offer her? Surely, Boy, proper pride would
keep you from asking her to marry you, until your income at least
equalled hers?"

"Not a bit!" said the Boy. "That sort of rot isn't proper pride. It's
just selfish false pride. However much a woman had, when a man--a
_man_, mind you, not an old woman, or a _thing_ with no pluck or
vertebra--when a man gives a woman his whole love, his whole life, the
worship of his whole body, heart, and soul, he has given her that whic