She had felt it, too, the Sunday of her marriage, when Drew had called to her conscience and spirituality, and set the chords of suffering and hope vibrating. From that hour to this she had been climbing painfully to what was about to occur.
Well, she was ready. The bewitching smile played over her face. Tiptoeing across the bedroom floor, she noiselessly unfastened the door, and silently reached Gaston's side.
He had quite forgotten her. Weary from the day's work, perplexed by later developments, with closed eyes, and hands clasped behind his head, he was lost in thought.
Joyce touched him lightly, and he looked up.
She had taken him off guard. Her bewildering beauty attacked his senses while his shield of Purpose was down.
"Good God!" he exclaimed staring at her. "You—you glorious creature!"
She laughed, and the sound thrilled the man as her beauty did. It was new, and wonderful. He staggered to his feet and reached out to her like a man blinded by a sudden glare.
She evaded his touch, and gave that wild little laugh again.
"You like it?" she asked, from across the table.
"Like it? You—are—divine!"