The removal was soon over, and for Harry the town emptied itself just as it was filling for everybody else; so then he took to writing tremendous letters; and an answer was never wanting in the course of a day or so; only it was never the answer he besought. Her fondness for him was obvious and not denied; only she had got it into her head that those six years between them were an insuperable bar, that a boy like Harry could not possibly know his own mind, and, therefore, that it would be manifestly unfair to take him at his word. So the thing resolved itself into a question of time; and, in the midst of other changes in his life, Harry did his best to bury himself in his work; but his comic verses were as much as he could manage, and for several weeks in succession these were the feeblest feature in _Tommy Tiddler_. Then he went to her in despair. "I can't stand it any longer!" "Then give it up." "I've waited five months!" "I said six." "Surely five is enough to show whether a fellow knows his own mind?" "Some of it may be mere obstinacy." "Well, then, it's playing the very mischief with my work." "Then what _will_ it be when we are married?" "I beg your pardon?" "I mean to say if we ever are." "Fanny, you said _when_!" "I meant _if_." "But you _said_ WHEN!!" * * * * * It was the thin edge of the wedge. * * * * * This protracted siege had other sides. It was not a joke to either party. Yet each tried to treat it as one. The man tried to conceal his disappointment, his inevitable chagrin; the woman, her deep and selfless anxiety as to whether, in all the years before them, he would be happy always--truly happy--happy as a man could be. She looked so far ahead, and he such a little way. Sometimes they told each other their thoughts; sometimes they were less happy than lovers ought to be; but all these months their inner lives were very full. They did not stagnate in each other's love. They lived intensely and they felt acutely. And that is why, if Harry Ringrose were to tell his own love story, and tell it honestly, it would be a tale apart. * * * * *