"Conversations end in many ways, Miss Heth. I have known them to end like journeys."
The man left the fire, advanced to her side, took the modish wrap from her hands. But he did not at once offer to hold it for her. He stood two feet away from her, and a gleam came into his eyes, faint and a little cold.
"But I wonder," said he, musingly, "if what two men told you in a summer-house one night isn't quite true, after all."
"That I have no heart, you mean?"
"And don't know the meaning of being kind. Easter lilies are pretty on a tomb, but they were never my favorite flowers."
"No," she said, "it is not true. My heart is here"--she touched the place--"it is large--and I am, oh, very, very kind."
"You are rather adorable, you know," said his abrupt voice. "Here is your coat."
She was warm to the eye, animating, of an exquisite figure. Her nearness released a faint fragrance. She slipped her left arm into the sleeve he offered, and looking up at him, half over her shoulder, said with a mocking little laugh:
"And you know that kind-hearted girls are always awfully credulous.... I sweep you off your feet. My eyes intoxicate you, drive you mad! Go on. I've told you that I like your pretty speeches."
"I do not always stop with speeches--you wild, sweet thing...."