You maintain your exact relations with your brother and
sister stars. You keep all your engagements, you never wobble in your
path--everything exact, mathematical. And up darts a wild-haired, impetuous
comet, a hurrying, bustling, irregular wanderer coming from you don't know
where, going you don't know whither. We pass very near each to the other.
The social astronomers may or may not note a little variation in your
movement--a very little, and soon over. They probably will not note the
insignificant meteor that darted close up to you--close enough to get his
poor face sadly scorched and his long hair cruelly singed--and then hurried
sadly away. And----"
"And--what? Isn't there any more to the story?" Marian's eyes were shining
with a light which she was conscious had never been there before.
"And--and----" Howard stopped and faced her. His hands were thrust deep in
the pockets of his overcoat. He looked at her in a way that made the colour
fly from her face and then leap back again. "And--I love you."
"Oh"--Marian said, hiding her face in her white muff. "Oh."
"I don't wish to touch you," he went on, "I just wish to look at you--so
tall, so straight, so--so alive, and to love you and be happy." Then he
laughed and turned. "But you'll catch cold.
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