"How can I, when I do not know what you are going to say?" I demanded.
"Then you wish to hear it?"
I nodded, curious to learn what was in her mind.
Looking with eyes that scintillated into mine she said, impressively, "Don, you cannot possibly want that kiss more than I want to give it!"
"Well," I answered, delighted at her communication. "What prevents you? I promise, on my honor, not to scream—nor even to tell."
"If I leave you to decide," said Miss May, with lips that whitened at the words, "what will you advise me?"
A chilly breeze swept along the veranda. The figure of Statia Barton came across my vision, with her finger uplifted in warning. Out on the ocean I saw a wave that was transparent and beneath it a beautiful figure, cold and dead.
I raised one of her hands to my lips and breathed a sigh upon it. I was quieted so easily!
"Good night," I said, with emotion.
"Good night," she replied. "You do not—no, you do not hate me?"