"I forgot . . . you asked me to go . . ."
"Marie!" said Feathers brokenly.
She looked up, a wild hope in her eyes, then she fell forward into his arms.
"Oh, do you love me?—say you love me . . ."
"My darling—my beloved . . ."
Everything was forgotten. The world was at a standstill. In his arms she felt that she had come home at last to rest and perfect happiness.
They talked in broken whispers. He would take her away, he said; they would find their happiness together. Between kisses they made their plans.
"And you will never be sorry—and hate me?" she asked painfully.
He turned her face to his.
"Am I to answer that question?" he asked hoarsely, and she shook 263 her head. "No—I know you never will."