“I’m glad of that. And now suppose you kissed me. Or d’you think I ought to kiss you?”
Suddenly she was in his arms, blushing and breathless.
“You witch,” breathed the man. “You exquisite, glorious witch. I’ve steeled myself and fought a thousand times. And to-night I swore I’d see you—and kiss the rod. ‘Rod’? Sword. It’s been like a sword in my side to wait upon you. To-night was laden with memories, but I swore to come through. I swore I’d recall them . . . and bow . . . and come away—walk through the wet streets triumphant, because I’d flirted with fire and not been burned. And now—I’ve failed.” He lifted up his eyes with the look of one who is looking into heaven. “I shan’t walk home, Eve. By rights I should slink, because I’ve broken my oath. But—I—shan’t—slink. I think I shall dance, Eve . . . dance, leap, run . . . give silver to the beggars I meet . . . shout . . . because you love me . . . because of the stars in your eyes and the flower they call your mouth.” Eve flung back her beautiful head and closed her eyes. The smile on her parted lips was not of this world. “You ask if I love you. I love the lisp of your footfalls and the print of your tiny feet. I love the rustle of your gown and the silence your laughter breaks. All that you do I love—because you do it . . . you . . . Eve . . . my princess. . . .”
He kissed her lips.
“I’m very happy,” said Eve. “I hope you are.”
Broke picked her up in his arms.
“You wicked child,” he said.
“Witch, princess, child,” said Eve, with an arm round his neck. “Which will you marry?”
“The child,” said Jeremy Broke.
“That’s right,” said Eve. “The others have served their turn. The stick to persuade you to jump: the sceptre to dazzle your vision.” She fell to stroking his hair. “I’m really more of an artist than I thought. Looking back, I wonder I had the courage to be so indecent. Of course, I was desperate. Still . . .”