In the moonlight, and that pretty air of timidity on her face, she was more ravishing than ever. Her voice called as a siren's; her eyes drew Sam irresistibly. In a second all his fears, doubts, scruples, were flung to the winds. He held up the portmanteau, and advanced to the carriage door.
"Here it is. Geraldine—"
"Oh! thanks, thanks. How can I show my thanks?"
The perfume of her hair floated out upon the night with the music of her tone until they both fairly intoxicated him.
He opened the door of the chaise.
"Where shall I stow it?" he asked.
"Here, opposite me; be very careful of it."
In the darkness he saw a huge bundle of rugs piled by Geraldine's side.
"Where am I to sit?" he asked, as he bestowed the portmanteau carefully.
He looked up into her face. The loveliest smile rested on him, for one instant, from those incomparable eyes. She did not answer, but held out her hand with the grace of a maiden confessing her first passion. He seized the ungloved fingers, and kissed them.