"They're not unanswerable," I said hotly. "You haven't weighed our happiness against this unknown voice of your people, your birthright—he did it for you! His cold logic read the scales—not your heart or your conscience! He's built a wall around you like a cistern, and you can't see out. If it was ordained for us to face death, then by the same law we've got to face life! Sweetheart, don't you see what I mean?"
"I've seen all that from the beginning, dear," she murmured, putting one hand on my hair and stroking it. "But nothing can prevail against what you call his cold logic. He's certain that he's right, and he has the power to make me go."
"Oh, if I only had the brains to out-argue him!" My voice choked, and I bowed my head in her lap.
For a while we were silent. Her hand continued to stroke my hair, and soon her fingers strayed to my temple and gently pressed it—as if she knew that my head burned and ached, and wanted to make it well.
"You don't have to argue, always my own," I heard her whisper. "There's something stronger than words pleading for you."
I looked up quietly, saying:
"Let's run away to-night! Let's have another rescue, and go back to our Oasis——" But she stopped me by putting her hand over my mouth, although she was breathing fast and the color had flown to her cheeks.
"Don't, don't," she gasped. "I've thought of that so many times!"
"To-night," I begged. "You know I'll always make you happy?"
"Happy?" Her eyes, half closed, held mine with a look that did not try to hide its longing. "There'd be no happiness on earth like that of being entirely yours at our Oasis!"