"
He looked at her firmly, though his face had that illumination which the
spirit in his eyes--the Celtic fire drawn through the veins of his
ancestors--gave to all he did and felt; and now as in a dream he saw
little things in her he had never seen before. He saw that a little
strand of her beautiful dark hair had broken away from its ordered place
and hung prettily against the rosy, fevered skin of her cheek just beside
her ear. He saw that there were no rings on her fingers save one, and
that was her wedding-ring--and she had always been fond of wearing rings.
He noted, involuntarily, that in her agitation the white tulle at her
bosom had been disturbed into pretty disarray, and that there was neither
brooch nor necklace at her breast or throat.
"If you stay, I am going to stay too," she declared in an almost
passionate voice, and she spoke with deliberation and a look which left
no way open to doubt. She was now a valiant little figure making a fight
for happiness.
"I can't prevent that," he responded stubbornly.
She made a quick, appealing motion of her hands. "Would you prevent it?
Aren't you glad to see me? Don't you love me any more? You used to love
me. In spite of all, you used to love me.
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