"And you will not go to the wine-shop, before you see me—in the morning?"
He shook his head. His inner life was facing the East, listening to a Skylark song.
"There is much to hear and say," she whispered unsteadily. "But go to Father Fontanel—or I—or you will not be in time! He must not die without seeing you—and take my love and reverence——"
They were looking into each other's eyes—without words.... Peter Stock returned from the veranda. Charter shivered slightly with the return to common consciousness, clenched his empty left hand where hers had been.
"The times are running close here," he whispered huskily. "Sometimes I forget that we've only just met. Father Fontanel alone could call me from here to-night. Somehow, I dread to leave you. You'll have to forgive me for saying it."
"Yes.... But in the morning—oh, come quickly.... Good-night."
She turned hastily to the staircase, and Charter's remarks as he rode townward with the other, were shirred, indeed....