sheltering wing like a storm-beaten dove reëntering the nest, and
there, cooing softly, "My knight--my own true knight and lord,"
yielded herself willingly and unquestioningly to his tender
caresses.

Such moments snatched from the heart of pressing anxieties are
made doubly sweet by their sharp contrast with a background of
trouble.


CHAPTER XVI

They sat there, these two, hand locked in hand, saying little,
satisfied now to be with each other and their new-found love. The
time flew by far too fast, till at last Sir Charles, with a
half-laugh, suggested:

"Do you know, dearest Countess--"

She corrected him in a soft, low voice.

"My name is Sabine--Charles."

"Sabine, darling. It is very prosaic of me, perhaps, but do you
know that I am nearly starved? I came on here at once. I have had
no breakfast."

"Nor have I," she answered, smiling. "I was thinking of it
when--when you appeared like a whirlwind, and since then, events
have moved so fast."