“Then go away with the vision. Oh, John Morning, you cannot listen to yourself—with a woman in the room!”
He lifted his shoulders, drawing her face to his. “I was going to say, you are my wings,” he whispered. “But that is not it. You are my fountain. I would come to you and drink——”
“But not remain——”
“I love your thoughts, Betty, your eyes and lips——”
“Because you are athirst——”
“I shall always be athirst!”
“That is not nature.”
He shuddered.
“Do men, however athirst—remain at the oases? Men of strength—would they not long to go? Would they not remember the far cities and the long, blinding ways of the sun?”
“But you could go with me—” he exclaimed.