He looked into her eyes and saw that she was looking at the distant fire, steadily, with an intense eagerness.
“Why do you do that?” he said.
“To-night I like to look at fire,” she answered.
“Tell me why.”
“It is as if I looked at you, at all that there is in you that you have never said, never been able to say to me, all that you never can say to me but that I know all the same.”
“But,” he said, “that fire is——”
He did not finish the sentence, but put up his hand and turned her face till she was looking, not at the fire, but at him.
“It is not like me,” he said. “Men made it, and—it’s a fire that can sink into ashes.”
An expression of sudden exaltation shone in her eyes.
“And God made you,” she said. “And put into you the spark that is eternal.”