“Do you—for me?”
“Before I say that I do—care for you—” she began, tremulously—“tell me that I have nothing to fear—”
Neither spoke. Over her shoulder Drene stared at the distant man who stared back at him.
Presently his eyes reverted to hers, absently studying the childlike beauty of her.
“I’m going to tell you something,” he said. “Love is no more wonderful than hate, no more perfect, no more eternal. And it is less fierce, and not as strong.”
“What!” she whispered, bewildered at the sinister change in him.
“And I want to tell you another thing. I am alone in the world. What I have, I have devised to you—in case I step out—suddenly—”
He paused, hesitated, then:
“Also I desire you to hear something else,” he went on. “This is the proper time for you to hear it, I think—now—to-night—”
He lifted his blazing eyes and looked at the other man.