“Do you not love me, Andree?” She caught her hands over her eyes.
“I do not know what it is—only that it is madness! I see, oh, I see a hundred things.”
Her hot eyes were on space. “What do you see?” he urged. She gave a sudden cry:
“I see you at my feet—dead.”
“Better than you at mine, Andree.”
“Let us go,” she said hurriedly.
“Wait,” he whispered.
They talked for a little time. Then they entered the studio. Annette was asleep in her chair. Andree waked her, and they bade Gaston good-night.