"
"Oh.... Oh, Nelly--"
For the first time that day he was perfectly sincere. He was
trying to confide in her. But the shame of having emotions was
on him. He got no farther.
To his amazement, Nelly mused, "She is very nice."
He tried hard to be gallant. "Yes, she is interesting, but of
course she ain't anywheres near as nice as you are, Nelly, be--"
"Oh, don't, Billy!"
The quick agony in her voice almost set them both weeping. The
shared sorrow of separation drew them together for a moment.
Then she started off, with short swift steps, and he tagged
after. He found little to say. He tried to comment on the
river. He remarked that the apartment-houses across in New York
were bright in the sunset; that, in fact, the upper windows
looked "like there was a fire in there." Her sole comment was "Yes."
When they rejoined the crowd he was surprised to hear her
talking volubly to Miss Proudfoot. He rejoiced that she was
"game," but he did not rejoice long. For a frightened feeling
that he had to hurry home and see Istra at once was turning him
weak and cold.
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