"There is a bondage," she said, "that is sweeter than any freedom. And, Nap, it is the one thing in this world that I want—that I need—that I pray for night and day."
"Anne!" he said. He turned back to her. He took the hands she gave him. "Anne," he said again, speaking rapidly, in a voice that shook, "I have tried to play a straight game with you. I have warned you. I am not the right sort. You know what I am. You know."
"Yes," Anne said, "I know." She raised her head and looked him straight in the eyes. "You are all the world to me, Nap," she said. "You are the man I love."
His arms caught her, crushed her fiercely to him, held her fast.
"Say it again!" he said, his fiery eyes flaming. "Say it! Say it!"
But Anne said nought. Only for a long, long second she gazed into his face; then in utter silence she turned her lips to his.
* * * * *
They spent the whole of the long June day together in the garden. Neither knew how the time went till evening came upon them all unawares—a golden evening of many fragrances.
They came at last along the green path under the lilac trees, and here by the rustic seat Nap stopped.
"I'll leave you here," he said.