With her hands in mine I held her tightly. Suddenly I felt something coming over me， a thing that stabbed my body with its quickness. It was as if the words her father had uttered were becoming clear to me. I had not realized before that there was such a love as he had spoken of. I had believed that men never loved women in the same way that a woman loved a man， but now I knew there could be no difference.
We sat silently， holding each other's hands for a long time. It was long past midnight， because the lights in the valley below were being turned out； but time did not matter.
Gretchen clung softly to me， looking up into my face and laying her cheek against my shoulder. She was as much mine as a woman ever belongs to a man， but I knew then that I could never force myself to take advantage of her love， and to go away knowing that I had not loved her as she loved me. I had not believed any such thing when I came. I had traveled all that distance to hold her in my arms for a few hours， and then to forget her， perhaps forever.
When it was time for us to go into the house， I got up and put my arms around her. She trembled when I touched her， but she clung to me as tightly as I held her， and the hammering of her heart drove into me， stroke after stroke， like an expanding wedge， the spears of her breasts.
"Richard， kiss me before you go，" she said.
She ran to the door， holding it open for me. She picked up the lamp from the table and walked ahead up the stairs to the floor above.
At my door she waited until I could light her lamp， and then she handed me mine.
"Good night， Gretchen，" I said.
"Good night， Richard."
I turned down the wick of her lamp to keep it from smoking， and then she went across the hall towards her room.
"I'll call you in the morning in time for you to catch your train， Richard."
"All right. Gretchcn. Don't let me oversleep， because it leaves the station at seven-thirty."