I'd have to hate him as much--as much as I love you."
"How much is that?"
"A whole world full and brimming over; is that enough?"
"Only a little world?" he answered. "Is that all?"
"If I told you truly, you would not believe me," she said earnestly. "You
would shake your head and say: 'Poor silly Betty, has she gone moon mad?'"
Catching her in his arms again, he kissed her hair and mouth and hands and
the ruffle at her throat. "Poor silly Betty," he repeated, "where is your
wisdom now?"
"You have turned it into folly, sad little wisdom that it was."
"Well, I prefer your folly," he said gravely. "It was folly that made you
love me at the first; it was pure folly that brought you out to me that
night at Chericoke--but the greatest folly of all is just this, my dear."
"But it will keep you safe."
"Who knows? I may get shot to-morrow. There, there, I only said it to feel
your arms about me."
Her hands clung to him and the tears, rising to her lashes, fell fast upon
his coat.
"Oh, don't let me lose you," she begged. "I have lost so much--don't let me
lose you, too."
"Living or dead, I am yours, that I swear."
"But I don't want you dead. I want the feel of you. I want your hands, your
face. I want _you_."
"Betty, Betty," he said softly. "Listen, for there is no word in the world
that means so much as just your name."
"Except yours."
"No interruptions, this is martial law. Dear, dearest, darling, are all
empty sounds; but when I say 'Betty,' it is full of life.
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