She rolled over, scrambling into a cross-legged posture on the bed. He
could see her eyes shining. But she did not speak; she seemed to know
that in silence was her strength.

He said with a sort of despair:

"You must let me talk it over with your aunt. She has a lot of good
sense."

"Yes."

He bent over and kissed her hot forehead.

"Good night, my dear; don't cry. Promise me!"

She nodded, and lifted her face; he felt her hot soft lips on his
forehead, and went away a little comforted.

But Noel sat on her bed, hugging her knees, listening to the night,
to the emptiness and silence; each minute so much lost of the little,
little time left, that she might have been with him.




III

Pierson woke after a troubled and dreamful night, in which he had
thought himself wandering in heaven like a lost soul.