She took her place again by his side. Immediately he possessed himself of both her slim hands.
“Now look at me,” he said.
She met his eyes, then flushed and trembled at the love she must have seen reflected in his face.
“Masago,” he said, “when Junzo once again regains his normal strength, he has a tale to tell his little wife,—a foolish tale of youth’s brief madness in a summer, of heart-burning and heart-breaking, tears of weakness, filial disobedience, falsity, and then—despair. Afterward—the light!”
“The light?” she said in a strange, breathless voice.
“She met his eyes, then flushed and trembled.”
“A face,” he said,—“the soothing face of my Masago.”
“Oh, do not call me so,” she cried almost piteously; “I cannot bear to hear it.”
“Why—”