“Yes,” he replied, without moving.
“So! They are very beautiful to-night.”
“Honorably so,” he replied simply.
“Yet how insignificant will they appear shortly when their august queen shall arise to dim their little lustre.”
“It is so,” he agreed gravely; “the august moon is queen of the night.”
“You watch for the queen, Sir Artist?”
He turned and looked at her curiously.
“And you, my lady?”
“I, too,” she rejoined.
He moved restlessly, and even in the dim light her watching eyes saw the uneasiness in his face.