"We'll break the bottle," he said, "and the glasses, too. They shall never be used again."
The shattered crystal fell, tinkling as it went. The wine made a deep, purple stain upon the stone. He opened his arms.
"No," whispered Edith. "It only makes it harder, when——"
"Beloved, have you found so much sweetness in the world that you can afford to pass it by?" She did not answer, so he said, pleadingly: "Don't you want to come?"
She turned toward him, her face suddenly illumined. "I do, with all my soul I do."
"Then come. For one little hour—for one dear hour—ah, dearest, come!"
Rosemary averted her face, unable to bear it. When she turned her miserable eyes toward them again, allured by some strange fascination she was powerless to analyse, Edith was in his arms, her mouth crushed to his.
Yours Alone
"Dear, dearest, sweetheart, beloved!" the man murmured. "I love you so!"
There was a pause, then he spoke again. "Do you love me?"