“The woman ran to her mirror, regarding her pale, excited face. In her closet she touched her gowns—faster and faster her heart! Dressing herself in the loveliest gown of all, she returned in haste to her chair. There she waited, facing the empty cornice where a gargoyle had lain for centuries....
“There was a soft sound at her door. Now, through the opening, the woman could hear quick breathing. She pressed her hand against her throat, observing the figure as it entered.
“Slowly the gargoyle went to her, his movement quiet and purposeful. Laying his head upon his arms, he dropped down on his knees before her. Frightened, the woman looked away. Then her love, conquering fear, placed an infinite pity upon him. Her hands braced under his chin, lifting the agonized face until his eyes met hers. Lightly, her fingers caressed the deep cracks in his cheek, brushed the dry moss from his throat—and for one helpless, inarticulate moment, the gargoyle lived.”
Martin felt the heavy wetness of his eyes. His twisted, passionate face looked up at Deane.
“She knew!” he cried. “And you know!”
Deane placed her hands upon his throat and drew him toward her.
“Yes,” she said. While in an uneven, throaty voice she kept repeating, “She knew, and I know.”
“Flower lips,” Martin whispered, the taste of blood in his mouth, “squint your lovely eyes like old China—China eyes—” He moved her then, until she floated, insubstantial, upon the blue mosque of the couch. Once more, reality became a dream, and night pushed inward....
Martin watched the moon rise slowly and swing higher southward. Venus appeared, and then the Dipper, of such a calculating blue, such measured coldness that Martin shivered. He looked at Deane tenderly as she lay in his arms, trying to remember when such emotion had dominated him. Deane’s face, a cameo in the steel-tinted light, was now upturned to him in a death-like stillness. He put his ear against her heart to reassure himself. Deftly, he disengaged his arm from her waist and slipped on one knee to the floor. Then he crept softly to the window and looked out over the vast eastern sky. He imagined that he could faintly see the first pale ravages of dawn, so he returned. Still kneeling on the floor, he blew upon Deane’s hand and up her arm. He thought that she would never awaken, until suddenly he heard her say, “My, what a feeling you gave me! Did you enjoy the view from the window?”