"Juliet!"
She turned swiftly. He was standing in the dark doorway of the school.
The vague light of the rising moon gleamed deathly on his face. He did
not move to meet her.
She went to him, reached out hands to him that he did not take, and
clasped him by the shoulders. "Oh, you poor boy!"
His arms held her close for a moment or two, then they relaxed.
"I don't know why I sent for you," he said.
"You didn't send for me, Dick," she made gentle answer. "But I think you
wanted me all the same."
He groaned. "Wanted you! I've--craved for you. You told the squire?"
"Yes. He said--"
He broke in upon her with fierce bitterness. "He was pleased of course! I
knew he would be. That's why I couldn't send the message to him. It had
to be you."
"Dick! Dick! He wasn't pleased! You don't know what you're saying. He was
most terribly sorry." She put her arm through his with a very tender
gesture. "Won't you take me inside and tell me all about it?" she said.
He gave a hard shudder. "I don't know if I can, Juliet. It's been--so
awful. He suffered--so infernally. The doctor didn't want to give him
morphia--said it would hasten the end.
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