e blood in his body had time to freeze, he stepped out
of the moonlight into the shadow and whispered, "Shsss!" Instinct made
him do this.

Across the silence the soft voice came again, "Oh, I'm not asleep. But
why did you stay so long, Guy dear?"

Buckley heard the squeaking of a bed-spring and as his knees stiffened
he spied coming toward him something white with two black streaks
hanging half way down, which as the thing came into the moonlight, he
saw to be long braids of dark hair. It was a tall, slender figure
clothed in a white garment. The face was young and beautiful. Buckley
closed his eyes. But it came nearer and nearer. He stood up perfectly
rigid in the darkness as two soft arms reached up and met about his
neck.

Buckley did not budge and the soft voice began, "You have not forgiven
me yet." It began to sob. "You know I did not mean it. Won't you forgive
me? Tell me you do forgive me. Say it with your own lips, Guy dear.
Speak to me, my husband!" Buckley didn't. A soft, fragrant hand came up
along his cheek, which tingled, and over his eyes, which quivered. For
fully a half minute he tried to think what to do, then he gritted his
teeth and placed one arm about her waist and threw the other around her
neck in such a way that he could draw it tight if necessary. Suddenly
she raised her head, gave one startled look into his face, and with a
shuddering gasp, she recoiled.

"For Heaven's sake, don't scream--I can explain!"

"Ugh, oh, let go! Who--let me go, or I'll screa-ch-ch-ch!"

Buckley pressed on the windpipe, feeling like three or four murderers as
he did so. "Oh, please, if you scream it'll only make things awfully
awkward. I got in here by mistake. Oh, please keep quiet. Promise me
you'll not cry out, and I'll let you go."

"Yes, yes, I promise," said the scared voice. Buckley released his
grasp. She fled across the room. He thought she was making for the door
and sprang to stop her, but she only snatched up an afghan or something
from the sofa, and holding it about her, retreated to the dark part of
the room, moaning, "Oh, dear! oh, dear!"

"I don't know who you are, but I wish you wouldn't cry. Please be calm.
It's all a big mistake, I thought I was coming to my own room--"

"Your own room!"

"I mean my classmate's room,--I mean I thought a freshman roomed here.
You aren't half so sorry as I am--oh, yes, you are--I mean I'm awfully
sorry, and wish to apologize. I didn't mean anything."