"Oh, Maxine!" He caught her hand. "How low you have rated me—to think I would wrest you from yourself! Is it my place to make life harder for you?"
Still she gazed at him. "I do not understand," she said, in a frightened whisper.
"Never mind, sweet! It doesn't matter if you never understand. Just give me credit for one saving grace."
He spoke lightly, as men speak when they are bankrupt of hope, then with a sudden breaking of his stoicism, he caught her in his arms, straining her close, kissing her mouth, talking incoherently to himself.
"Oh, Maxine! Little faun of the green groves! If you could know! But what am I that I should possess the kingdom of heaven?"
His ecstasy frightened her; she struggled to free herself.
"What is it?" she asked. "What is it?"
"Just love—no more, no less! Good-bye! Take your life—make it what you will; but know always that one man at least has seen heaven in your eyes." Again he held her to him, his whole life seeming to flow out upon his thoughts and to envelop her, then his arms relaxed and very soberly he took, first one of her hands, and then the other, kissing each in turn.
"Maxine!"
"Ned!" The word faltered on her lips.