"To-morrow!" he murmured. "Fancy!... No, it cannot be true!"
By the time Claire came he was glowing with a strange, new animation.
"Claire! Claire!" he cried. "Think, we are to be married to-morrow! And you are to wear your wedding-dress ... a real wedding-dress ... the veil and all!... Only there will be no feast. What a pity!... But no matter, when I get well again then we will have a feast, Claire. Unless...." his voice grew suddenly almost inaudible—"unless I die of joy, Claire!... of joy!"
Stillman turned away. She fell on her knees beside the white bed.
"There, there!" she said, soothingly. "You mustn't get so excited. You mustn't think about it!"
He closed his eyes. "Claire, I cannot wait until to-morrow. Will you kiss me, now?"
And for the first time their lips met.
They had planned a daytime wedding at first, but it transpired that the priest in charge of the Greek church had been called out of town and would not be back until evening. When Danilo heard this he said:
"What is the difference? A priest is a small matter! Cannot Claire's minister...."