She struggled feebly against him at first, and tried to say that she must go. But the speech died down into a murmur, and she could only sob weakly:
"I can't help it! I can't help it!" For one last moment she panted to be free, and then the violet eyelids sank wearily over the happy eyes, and she lay even closer, and very still, in his arms.
A sudden knock on the outer door startled them both back to a forgotten world. She caught at her hair, and tried to twist it decently about her head once more. He went to the door and opened it.
It was Thomas, the coachman, come for Miss Cordelia.
CHAPTER XV
THE MILL AND ITS GRIST
She dreamed not of the fight he fought
Till lo, he crept again
To her, with all his vows forgot——
Then, then she knew his pain.
John Hartley, "The Broken Knight."
Humor is the tail to the kite of affection.—"The Silver Poppy."