'Thank you. I will not cause you to regret your promise. Shall we go?'
Lossing lay eager-eyed and impatient, watching alternately his watch and the door, when June entered, stately and charming, and came alone straight to his cot.
There were no heroics. These were not the lovers of the popular novel, who meet invariably, after long absence or a deadly quarrel, in an empty parlour at early twilight; they were young and ardent, but they were also familiar with les convenances, and possessed of the nineteenth-century horror of a scene.
When she paused beside him his hand was outstretched to meet hers; and if the clasp was close and long, what of that? And if, when she sank gracefully into the seat placed for her by an attendant, there was a suspicious moisture in her eyes, which she seemed to wipe away, since her back was turned to the others; and if his lip quivered slightly, for he was very weak you know, what then?
At first no word was spoken, but their eyes had met and exchanged greetings, without the aid of words.
By-and-by, with his eyes devouring her face, he said feebly:
'You—have seen—Masters?'
'Yes, he brought me here.'