stared over her head with that strange white look, as if the
things she had said had raised a mountain between them. She could
feel the throb of his arm on which her hand rested. All at once
her calm had deserted her. She had never known a man like this,
had never expected to know one; and in her face there shone the
gentle loveliness of a woman whose soul and not her voice was
pleading a great cause. It was pleading for her self. And then he
looked down.

"You want to go--now," she whispered. "I knew that you would."

"Yes, I want to go," he replied, and his two hands took hers, and
held them close to his breast, so that she felt the excited
throbbing of his heart. "I want to go--wherever you go. Perhaps in
those years of centuries ago there lived women like you to fight
and die for. I no longer wonder at men fighting for them as they
have sung their stories in books. I have nothing down in that
world which you have called civilization--nothing except the
husks of murdered hopes, ambitions, and things that were once
joys. Here I have you to love, to fight for. For you cannot tell
me that I must not love you, even though I swear to live up to
your laws of chivalry. Unless I loved you as I do there would not
be those laws."

"Then you will do all this for me--even to the end--when you must
sacrifice all of that for which you have struggled, and which you
have saved?"

"Yes."