The Lighted Match

"Cara!" He gripped the rail tightly and his words fell evenly. "Over

there in America, you admitted to me that you loved me. That was when

you were not yet Queen of Galavia." He brought himself up with a sudden

halt. She looked up as frankly as a child.

"I didn't admit it," she said. "We only admit things against our will,

don't we? I told you gladly."

"And now--!" He held his breath as he looked into her eyes.

"Now I am the Queen of a hideous little Kingdom," she shuddered. "It

wouldn't do for me to say it now, would it?"

"Oh!" The man leaned again heavily on the rail. The monosyllable was

eloquent. Impulsively she bent toward him, then caught herself. For a

moment she looked out at the water undulating under the moon like

mother-of-pearl on a waving fan. "But it was all right to say I loved

you then," she went on reflectively, after a pause. "I had a perfect

right then to tell you that I loved you better than all the small total

of the world beside, and--" her voice faltered for a moment--"and," with

a musical laugh, she illogically added, "I have nothing to take back of

what I then said, though of course I can't ever say it again."