"Oh, Blixy, little girl, do YOU love ME?"
They stood there for a moment in the half dark, facing one
another, their hearts beating, their breath failing them in the
tension of the instant. There in that room, high above the city,
a little climax had come swiftly to a head, a crisis in two lives
had suddenly developed. The moment that had been in preparation
for the last few months, the last few years, the last few
centuries, behold! it had arrived.
"Blix, do you love me?"
Suddenly it was the New Year. Somewhere close at hand a chorus of
chiming church bells sang together. Far off in the direction of
the wharves, where the great ocean steamships lay, came the glad,
sonorous shouting of a whistle; from a nearby street a bugle
called aloud. And then from point to point, from street to roof
top, and from roof to spire, the vague murmur of many sounds grew
and spread and widened, slowly, grandly; that profound and steady
bourdon, as of an invisible organ swelling, deepening, and
expanding to the full male diapason of the city aroused and
signaling the advent of another year.
And they heard it, they two heard it, standing there face to face,
looking into each other's eyes, that unanswered question yet
between them, the question that had come to them with the turning
of the year. It was the old year yet when Condy had asked that
question. In that moment's pause, while Blix hesitated to answer
him, the New Year had come.
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