“What has that to do with the matter?” she answered without moving her lips.
Barnes for the moment felt venturesome.
“As an artist,” was his reply, “it’s my duty to take such details into account. Your eyes match marvelously well with the candle light.”
“Your calling doesn’t give you the privilege of being bold.”
“So long as the boldness is born of truth. Your hair, too, is as a thousand candles burning in the night.”
“You are thinking of my mother’s hair.”
“Because I see your hair as your father saw your mother’s hair when the two were young.”
“Father was pleased by the tender way you spoke to him of mother.”
“My heart was dangerously tender as through you I saw your mother.”
“You think of danger—ever?”