She tried surreptitiously to reach her own dagger, in its cunning hiding place in her petticoat. “I believe,” he said stiffly, “that these are the apartments of Miss Pellissier. The spring can't be opened on this side. You have converted me to—Lester Ward! You are my dear friend, you are a slip of a girl, but there are moments when my head has been on your breast, when your heart has been beating close to my ears, when I have known you for the goddess, when I have wished myself your slave, when I have wished that you could kill me for the joy of being killed by you. Mark yourself as a charitable man and you’ll be rewarded here and in Heaven. “I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips.
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