“Soul of my body!”
He wrung Crispin's hand, and in a state of ineffable perplexity he hurried from the room to do what was required of him.
For a moment Crispin stood by the window, and looking out into the night he thanked God from his heart for his solution of the monstrous riddle that had been set him.
Then the rustle of a gown drew his attention, and he swung round to find Cynthia smiling upon him from the threshold.
He advanced to meet her, and setting his hands upon her shoulders, he held her at arm's length, looking down into her eyes.
“Cynthia, my Cynthia!” he cried. And she, breaking past the barrier of his grasp, nestled up to him with a sigh of sweet and unalloyed content.