"Listen," he said hoarsely, and his fingers tightened on her arm.
The current running through her from him made her his instrument. Did he say the sky was black, she would have exclaimed at the discovery.
"Yes—I am listening."
"Honora!"
"Hugh," she answered, and blinded him. He was possessed by the tragic fear that she was acting a dream; presently she would awake—and shatter the universe. His dominance was too complete.
"I love you—I respect you. You are making it very hard for me. Please try to understand what I am saying," he cried almost fiercely. "This thing, this miracle, has happened in spite of us. Henceforth you belong to me—do you hear?"
Once more the candles flared up.
"We cannot drift. We must decide now upon some definite action. Our lives are our own, to make as we choose. You said you were going away. And you meant—alone?"
The eyes were wide, now, with fright.
"Oh, I must—I must," she said. "Don't—don't talk about it." And she put forth a hand over his.