"It
will only depend on yourself--if you'll watch with me."
"Are you afraid?" she asked.
"Don't leave me now," he went on.
"Are you afraid?" she repeated.
"Do you think me simply out of my mind?" he pursued instead of
answering. "Do I merely strike you as a harmless lunatic?"
"No," said May Bartram. "I understand you. I believe you."
"You mean you feel how my obsession--poor old thing--may correspond
to some possible reality?"
"To some possible reality."
"Then you WILL watch with me?"
She hesitated, then for the third time put her question. "Are you
afraid?"
"Did I tell you I was--at Naples?"
"No, you said nothing about it."
"Then I don't know. And I should like to know," said John Marcher.
"You'll tell me yourself whether you think so. If you'll watch
with me you'll see."
"Very good then." They had been moving by this time across the
room, and at the door, before passing out, they paused as for the
full wind-up of their understanding. "I'll watch with you," said
May Bartram.
CHAPTER II
The fact that she "knew"--knew and yet neither chaffed him nor
betrayed him--had in a short time begun to constitute between them
a goodly bond, which became more marked when, within the year that
followed their afternoon at Weatherend, the opportunities for
meeting multiplied.
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