She started, and an irresistible impulse stirred her.
"Frank! Oh, Frank!" she cried. "If you could only see yourself. Tell me, dear. What are you thinking?"
"Thinking?"
The look had passed. The man's eyes were now gently smiling down into the girl's eager face.
"I was thinking of you, Phyl," he said tenderly. "I was thinking of you in Mon's place, and of myself in Hendrie's. I was thinking of what I should do. Of how I should feel. I was thinking that I, too, should want to take Fate in my two hands and compel it to do my will."
His face was flushing with boyish shame at the apparent boastfulness of his words, but he had spoken the truth.
But Phyllis saw nothing of the braggart in his words.
"I knew it, I knew it," she cried, her eyes shining with love and admiration. "Your face was the face of Alexander Hendrie just now. I have seen that look in his, not once, but a hundred times, and—then it was in yours. Oh, Frank, I am so glad, so—so glad you felt like that. I long to think and feel that now the old miserable past is over and done with, that you, too, will take life in your two strong hands, and—and fight out the big battle the Almighty has set for men. I want no man who must have others to fight for him; I want no man who will cry out weakly at every blow in the face; I want no man who will yield beneath the flail of Fate. I want the man of big courage, the man of fight. He must have the muscles of a giant, and the heart of a lion. That man I will set up on my little altar, and so long as I live I will go down on my knees and thank God for His goodness in giving him to me."
Frank had no words in which to answer. A great passion was sweeping through his veins and held him silent. Of a sudden his arms reached out and caught the girl's slim body in their powerful embrace, and, regardless that they were in full view of the house, he crushed her to his bosom, and kissed her passionately.
But Phyllis was more mindful of those things, and swiftly released herself with a little cry.