She gazed at him with a peculiar blankness stealing over her face.
"Oh, for the quintessence of all compounded oaths to charge my vow!" he said.
"For what?" she asked.
"My love, Phryne!"
At the old pagan name with which he had affronted her that morning in the hills, Laodice drew back sharply.
"Dost thou believe in me?" she asked.
"Believe what?"
"That I am thy wife."
"Tut! Back to the old quarrel! No! But by Heaven, thou art my sweetheart!"
She stopped at the edge of an exclamation and looked at him with widening eyes.