She looked at him intently, curiously, for it seemed to her that his mood foreshadowed some solemn and subtle fancy that was working in his heart. He desired her, and yet did not desire her. The glamour of a mystical self-renunciation was not dead in Martin Valliant.
“I am flesh and blood, God be thanked for it.”
He half closed his eyes.
“I see more than that.”
She colored.
“See the woman in me. For it is the man in you that has made me dream dreams.”
They rode in silence for a while, but both were conscious of a listening tenderness, a mysterious and unsolved unrest.
“Martin?”
He glanced at her gravely.
“Life and Death march on either side of us. We have to take thought for to-morrow and to-morrow’s morrow. It will not be easy.”