It should never again have its will of him. This night he must set his course forever.
"Clive!"
But the faint, clear call was no more real, and no less, than the voice which was ringing always in his ears, now,—no softer, no less winning.
"Clive!"
After a moment he raised himself to his elbows and gazed, half-blinded, toward the door. Then he got clumsily to his feet, stumbled across the floor, and opened it.
She stood there in her frail chamber robe of silk and swansdown, smiling, forlornly humorous, and displaying a book as symbol of her own insomnia.
"Can't you sleep?" she asked. "We'll both be dead in the morning. I thought I'd better tell you to go to sleep when I saw your light break out.... So I've come to tell you."
"How could you see that my window was lighted?"
"I was leaning out of my window listening to the little owl, and suddenly I saw the light from yours fall criss-cross across the grass.... Can't you sleep?"