"Death?" says I, "'Tis mayhap but the beginning of a greater life wherein shall be no more partings, I pray."
"'Tis a sweet thought, Martin!"
"And you have never feared death!" says I.
"Aye, but I do, Martin—I do!" cries she. "I am grown craven these days, mayhap—"
"Yet you sought death."
"Because there was no other way, Martin. But when Death clutched at me from those black depths I agonised for life."
"Is life then—become so—sweet to you, Damaris?"
"Yes, Martin!" says she softly.
"Since when?" I questioned, "Since when?" But instead of answering she falls a-singing softly and keeping her back to me; thus I saw that she had set the pin back in her hair, whereat I grew all suddenly and beyond reason glad. Though indeed the thing accorded but ill with her fine gown, as I told her forthwith.
"Think you so, Martin?" says she gravely, but with a dimple in her cheek.