“Very pleasant.”
“And I am very nice?”
“You are very vain,” he said, kissing her and rising to his feet. “There, you charming sorceress!”
“A new Circe.”
“Precisely; but I must not stay with Circe any longer. Let me go to Crispin’s room for his revolver, and then good-by.”
As quickly as possible he ran into the poet’s bedroom, and found the weapon on the bed, where the neglectful poet had left it. Slipping it into his belt, he came back to say good-by to Helena.
“Now mind you go to bed, dear,” he said, kissing her tenderly; “no more magical ceremonies to-night.”
“No, I will go to bed. Oh, do take care of yourself, Maurice!”
“I will, both for your sake and my own. Besides, your talisman.”
Helena threw her arms impulsively round his neck.