So Jimmy came, while mother went inside; Anna has got her victim in her clutch. Jimmy, all blushing, glad to be her guide, Thrilled by her scent, and trembling at her touch. She was all white and dark, and said not much; She sighed, to hint that pleasure’s grave was dug, And smiled within to see him such a mug.
They passed the doctor’s house among the trees, She sighed so deep that Jimmy asked her why. ’I’m too unhappy upon nights like these, When everyone has happiness but I!’ ’Then, aren’t you happy?’ She appeared to cry, Blinked with her eyes, and turned away her head: ’Not much; but some men understand,’ she said.
Her voice caught lightly on a broken note, Jimmy half-dared but dared not touch her hand, Yet all his blood went pumping in his throat Beside the beauty he could understand, And Death stopped knitting at the muffling band. ’The shroud is done,’ he muttered, ’toe to chin.’ He snapped the ends, and tucked his needles in.
Jimmy, half stammering, choked, ’Has any man----’ He stopped, she shook her head to answer ’No.’ ’Then tell me.’ ’No. P’raps some day, if I can. It hurts to talk of some things ever so. But you’re so different. There, come, we must go None but unhappy women know how good It is to meet a soul who’s understood.’
’No. Wait a moment. May I call you Anna?’ ’Perhaps. There must be nearness ’twixt us two.’ Love in her face hung out his bloody banner, And all love’s clanging trumpets shocked and blew. ’When we got up to-day we never knew.’ ’I’m sure I didn’t think, nor you did.’ ’Never.’ ’And now this friendship’s come to us for ever.’
’Now, Anna, take my arm, dear.’ ’Not to-night, That must come later when we know our minds, We must agree to keep this evening white, We’ll eat the fruit to-night and save the rinds.’ And all the folk whose shadows darked the blinds, And all the dancers whirling in the fair, Were wretched worms to Jim and Anna there.
’How wonderful life is,’ said Anna, lowly. ’But it begins again with you for friend.’ In the dim lamplight Jimmy thought her holy, A lovely fragile thing for him to tend, Grace beyond measure, beauty without end. ’Anna,’ he said; ’Good-night. This is the door. I never knew what people meant before.’
’Good-night, my friend. Good-bye.’ ’But, O my sweet, The night’s quite early yet, don’t say good-bye, Come just another short turn down the street, The whole life’s bubbling up for you and I. Somehow I feel to-morrow we may die. Come just as far as to the blacksmith’s light.’ But ’No’ said Anna; ’Not to-night. Good-night.’