"Then you still think you may get it?" questioned Chris.
"I think it possible—if the gods are kind."
"My dear," she said suddenly, "let's leave off joking. If it's something you're wanting very badly, why don't you—pray for it?"
"I am praying for it, sweetheart," he said.
"Oh, Trevor, tell me! And I'll pray, too."
She wound her arms persuasively about his neck. Her face was very sweet in the moonlight. The deep-sea eyes were very tender.
He looked into them and yielded. "Chris, I am praying for the love of the woman I love."
"Oh, but, Trevor—Trevor—"
"Yes," he said, and his voice vibrated upon a deeper note—a note that was passionate. "I want more than a little, my Chris. But I will be patient. I will wait all my life long if I must. Only—O God, let me win it at last!"
He stopped. She was looking at him strangely, and there was something about her that he had never seen before—something that compelled.