"I love my volcano."
"She'll hurt you, often. Destroy you altogether, perhaps. Basil, I want to tell you something. There'll be times when I shall nearly hate you."
"Why?"
"I don't know. It's just me. I'm cruel. But love me always, and I'll come back to you."
"I can't help loving you, dear," he said, and kissed her hair.
"But do you trust me?"
"Darling, of course!"
She made herself more comfortable in his arms. "Then I'll be worthy, if I can. Take care of me."
She was happy that night when she went to bed, and, sitting by the fire with her softly slippered feet close to the blaze, she could take Alexander's letter from its place, and hold it easily in a hand on which Basil's diamonds sparkled.
Only that morning the letter had been dropped into the hall as she stood there in her travelling coat, with the veil that swathed her little hat pushed up so that she might drink the hot milk Bessie offered.