"Am I—Barnabas?"
"I am sorry that I—frightened you."
"I'm better now."
"Yet you—tremble!"
"But I—think I can walk if—"
"If—?"
"If you will help me, please—Barnabas."
Oh, surely never had those dark and dingy stairs, worn though they were by the tread of countless feet, heard till now a voice so soft, so low and sweet, so altogether irresistible! Such tender, thrilling tones might have tamed Hyrcanean tigers or charmed the ferocity of Cerberus himself. Then how might our Barnabas hope to resist, the more especially as one arm yet encircled the yielding softness of her slender waist and her fragrant breath was upon his cheek?
Help her? Of course he would.
"It's so very—dark," she sighed.