"
A generous sob rose in Editha's throat for the humility of a man, so
very nearly perfect, who was willing to put himself below her.
Besides, she felt, more subliminally, that he was never so near slipping
through her fingers as when he took that meek way.
"You shall not say that! Only, for once I happen to be right." She
seized his hand in her two hands, and poured her soul from her eyes into
his. "Don't you think so?" she entreated him.
[Illustration: "'YOU SHALL NOT SAY THAT!'"]
He released his hand and drank the rest of his lemonade, and she added,
"Have mine, too," but he shook his head in answering, "I've no business
to think so, unless I act so, too."
Her heart stopped a beat before it pulsed on with leaps that she felt in
her neck. She had noticed that strange thing in men: they seemed to feel
bound to do what they believed, and not think a thing was finished when
they said it, as girls did. She knew what was in his mind, but she
pretended not, and she said, "Oh, I am not sure," and then faltered.
He went on as if to himself, without apparently heeding her: "There's
only one way of proving one's faith in a thing like this.
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