"I am in paradise, and shall try to forget that did you consider them things of moment, you would never have granted them," he said, earnestly laying down knife and fork as he turned to gaze wistfully into the face of the fair woman near him at last.
"You have the nattering tongue and eyes of your sex, Capt. Chancer, and you and the other men are to blame if I have promised more than I can perform; for I have been unable to say nay to your pleadings, being in a passive mood to-night."
And the eyelids with their wealth of curled lashes were uplifted, as she smilingly looked into his face, for her thoughts were of Lionel; his, of her.
"Of all women's moods, I love her best in the dreamy languor of passiveness."
"To mould us as wax in your hands, to love us till you tire, as we do a bird or a flower, and then sigh for another mood; you see I know you in all your moods and tenses," she said softly.
"You know us till we meet you," he said earnestly, as a servant refilled his champagne glass.
"Tis Greek meeting Greek" she said gaily, though her heart throbbed wildly, for she alone heard a slight bustle in the hall and the voice of the man she loved.
"No, fairest of women, 'tis the war of love!"
"A pleasant strife with its heart-stir; its weapons, the emotions."
"No wonder, that were we a very Achilles, you rob us of our strength."