"Who shall say?" she evaded.
"Your own lips. You've given them to me——"
"No, no. You have taken them——"
"It is all the same. They are mine." And Renwick took them again.
"Oh," she gasped, "you are so persistent—you English. You always wish to have your own way."
He laughed happily.
"Would you have me otherwise? My way and your way, Marishka, they go together. You wish it so, do you not?"
She was silent a while, the wild spirit in her slowly submissive, and at last a smile moved her lips, her dark eyes were upturned to his and she murmured a little proudly:
"It is a saying among the women of the House of Strahni that where the lips are given the heart must follow."
"Your heart, Marishka! Mine, for many weeks. I know it. It is the lips which have followed."