"Since I have but a few minutes alone with you, Claire, what I have to
say must be said quickly," he began.
For the first time in her life Claire was at a loss for an answer.
"I am sure you have guessed my secret, sweetest of all sweet girls," he
murmured. "Every glance of my eyes, every touch of my hand, must have
told it to you from the first moment we met. Did it--not?"
"No," faltered Claire, her eyes drooping like a flower under the sun's
piercing rays.
"Then my lips shall tell you," he cried. "It is this--I love you, little
Claire--love you with all my heart, all my soul. You are the light of my
life, the sunshine of my existence, my lode-star, my hope--all that a
young girl is to a man who idolizes her as the one supreme being on
earth who can make him happy. Oh, Claire, I worship you as man never
worshiped woman before, and I want you for my wife."
She opened her lips to speak, but he went on rapidly, hoarsely:
"Do not refuse me, for it would be my death warrant if you did.
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