It was the first time he had spoken her name, and she turned from him, pressing her fingers against flaming cheeks.
"Oh, I am burnt up with shame! I feel as if I had told all of them."
"Told them—what?"
"Mon Dieu! Will you compel me to say everything?"
She flung out both hands, and he caught and crushed them till she winced under the pressure. Then, holding her at arm's-length, he looked searchingly into her eyes.
And while they stood so—in this their first instant of real union, that dwarfed the years between to a watch in the night—each was aware of the other's answering heart; and in each, love burnt with so flame-like a quality that neither speech nor touch was needed to seal the intimacy of contact.
At length he drew her nearer.
"Does it frighten you now when I look right into you?" he asked, an odd vibration in his voice.
"No . . . no. I am only afraid you may not see deep enough."
He drew a great breath.