“My work, my hope, my life, they all get spirit now from you... Allie! You’re sweet—oh, so sweet! You’re glorious!” he rang out, passionately.
Surprise momentarily checked the rising response of her feeling.
“Neale! You’ve never before said—such-things!... And the way you look!”
“How do I look?” he queried, seeing the joyousness of her surprise.
Then she laughed and that was new to him—a sound low, unutterably rich and full, sweet-toned like a bell, and all resonant of youth.
“Oh, you look like Durade when he was gambling away his soul... You should see him!”
“Well, how’s that?”
“So white—so terrible—so piercing!”
Neale drew her closer, slipped her arms farther up round his neck. “I’m gambling my soul away now,” he said. “If I kiss you I lose it—and I must!”
“Must what?” she whispered, with all a woman’s charm.