The bareheaded knight remained immovable; but his face seemed to whiten, and his outline to become more uncompromisingly mail-clad.
"David," came the low tender voice from the staircase, "oh, David, I do want you—'in that way'! I would go to Central Africa or anywhere else in the wide world to be with you, David. Send for me, David, or come to me—oh, David, come to me!"
The tall slim figure on the staircase leaned towards the shadowy window, holding out appealing arms.
A bitter smile seemed to gather on the white face of the steel-clad knight. "I am to provide the myrrh," said David's voice.
Diana turned and moved slowly upward.
She could hear the log fire in the hall beginning to hiss and crackle.
She shivered. "Yes, it is winter," she said; "it is winter again; and it has taken us unawares."