"Yes, please do. I—I've been waiting for you."
"I'm sorry! I hoped you'd have gone to bed. But I might have known you wouldn't."
As she retreated from the window, he followed her, as if reluctantly, into the room.
"Shall I draw the curtains?" he asked. There was weariness in his voice, as in his face. Annesley's heart went out to her beloved sinner with even more tenderness than before.
"No, let's talk in the moonlight," she answered. "Oh, Knight, I am glad you've come! I began to think you never would!"
"Did you? That's not strange, for I was saying to myself that same thing."
"What same thing? I don't understand."
"That I—well, that I never ought to come to you again."
She sank down on a low sofa near the window, and looked up to him as he stood tall and straight, seeming to tower over her like one of the pine trees out there under the moon.
"Oh, Knight!" she faltered. "It's not—so bad as that!"