"Entreat me not to leave thee," she pleaded. Her eyes met his.
His face was close to hers. The small features before him were
quivering with emotion. She was so frail, so helpless, so easily
within his grasp. His muscles grew tense and his lips closed
firmly. He was battling with an impulse to draw her toward him
and comfort her in the shelter of his strong, brave arms. "They
shan't!" he cried, starting toward her.
Polly drew back, overawed. Her soul had heard and seen the
things revealed to each of us only once. She would never again
be a child.
Douglas braced himself against the back of the bench.
"What was the rest of the lesson?" he asked in a firm, hard
voice.
"I can't say it now," Polly murmured. Her face was averted; her
white lids fluttered and closed.
"Nonsense, of course you can. Come, come, I'll help you."
Douglas spoke sharply. He was almost vexed with her and with
himself for the weakness that was so near overcoming them. "And
Ruth said, 'Entreat me not to leave thee----' "
" 'Or to return from following after thee.' " She was struggling
to keep back the tears. " 'For whither thou goest, I will go,
and where thou lodgest, I will lodge. Thy people shall be my
people, and thy God my' "-- She stopped.
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