"Will you swear to be secret and faithful?"
He said hoarsely:
"Juliette, I must first know what you intend to do."
She whispered, and her voice set his blood rushing and the fragrance of her maddened him.
"Stoop!... Why are you so tall? Bend down your head!"
He stooped from his majestic altitude of five feet nine inches and a bittock, and two little hands that scorched him clasped his neck about. Light and soft as the touch of a flower was the contact of the mouth that whispered:
"I will tell you.... There is a line of one of your English poets—I forget his name—but the words run like this....
"'Throw but a stone—the giant dies!'
He gasped:
"I hear you!"