"What is it; darling," she asked;
"what is wrong? You look ill; your eyes have a strange expression."
Annabel's reply was scarcely audible. The pain and torpor of her last
short illness were already overmastering her. Maggie was alarmed at
the burning touch of her hand, but she had no experience to guide her
and her own great joy to make her selfish.
"Annabel, look at me for a moment. I have wonderful news to give you."
Annabel's eyes were closed, She opened them wide at this appeal for
sympathy, stretched out her hand and pushed back a tangle of bright
hair from Maggie's brow.
"I love you, Maggie," she said in that voice which had always power to
thrill its listeners.
Maggie kissed her friend's hand and pressed it to her own beating
heart. "I met Geoffrey Hammond today," she said. "He gave me a letter;
I have read it. Oh, Annabel, Annabel! I can be good now. No more bad
half-hours, no more struggles with myself. I can be very good now."
With some slight difficulty Annabel Lee drew her hot hand away from
Maggie's fervent clasp; her eyes, slightly distended, were fixed on
her friend's face; the flush of fever left her cheeks; a hot flood of
emotion seemed to press against her beating heart; she looked at
Maggie with passionate longing.
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