There followed a silence during which her grey eyes met his black ones steadily, fearlessly, resolutely. Then in a whisper Piers spoke, his lips still close to hers. "Tell me what you were praying for, sweetheart!"
She smiled a little. "No, dear, not now! It's nothing that's in your power to give me. Shall we sit on the window-seat and talk?"
But Piers was loath to let her go from his arms. He knelt beside her as she sat, still holding her.
She put her arm round his neck. "Do you remember your Star of Hope?" she asked him softly.
"I remember," said Piers, but he did not turn his eyes to the night sky; they still dwelt upon her.
Avery's face was toward the window. The drapery fell loosely away from her throat. He stooped forward suddenly and pressed his hot lips upon her soft white flesh.
A little tremor went through her at his touch; she kept her face turned from him.
"Have you really got all you want?" she asked after a moment. "Is there nothing at all left to hope for?"
"Didn't we drink to the future only to-night?" he said.
His arms were drawing her, but still she kept her face turned away. "Did you mean anything by that?" she asked. "Were you—were you thinking of anything special?"