"Because," she said, "I am leaving them. Because I am leaving the stars."
"And why are you leaving the stars?" he asked, taking a step toward her.
She turned toward him, now, and laid both her hands lightly upon his shoulders. "Because, John, I am going to you," she said; "because, John, I love you."
"Dora!" he cried.
She arrested him with a gesture. "I have loved you long, John," she went on; "I have loved you long—but I have fought it, fought it, fought it, John!"
"And why have you fought it?" he asked, again gently, as to a child.
"Because, John—oh, I don't know. Because, John, there is something within me—which I don't know. Something which yearns, John—for I don't know what. For peaks, John, for skies, for the stars; for—I don't know——"
"Dora, Dora," he said, a bit sadly.
"And so I fought it, John, I fought your love. But it has poured into me, John, as honey fills a chalice; gradually, sweetly, it has filled my veins, my blood, my heart, John. And to-night, John, my whole being was swollen with it, John, with the love of you, John, and I came out to say good-by to the stars——"
"Dora!" he cried again; and this time enveloped her in his arms.