"One of us has got to die," he panted. Not alone with her, that’s sure. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. Both, however, having safely landed, they cautiously crossed the room, and passed down the first flight of steps in silence. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. She was wan and white. She found she was trembling at his nearness and full of a thrilling dread that he might touch her. Some excuse for this rapacity may perhaps be found in the fact, that five thousand pounds was paid for the purchase of the Press Yard by Mr. ‘Why do you think I want a man ready to run to me with every move she makes?’ countered Gerald. For I still love her mother.
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