Ravant laughed, and knew how splendid and strange this was to him.
“If you would do that more often, it would be good for you,” said Ravant again.
“And you would be—good!”
“Yes—” agreed the invalid, “if you would smile so for me—”
“Oh, I meant your own smile!” cried the blushing nurse.
Ravant looked upon this blush until it had much the effect that looking upon the wine when it is red used to have upon him.
“Here!” he cried.
The girl came toward him. He caught her face between his hands and rounded it there.
“I have taken all the lines away. You have no business to have them.”
“My life—” said the girl, simply. “Those lines are its history. They belong there.”