light as she told him all the things that had hurt her or perplexed her so deeply. He seemed to warm and comfort his soul at the beautiful light of her nature.
“If she really could pledge herself,” he thought to himself, with passionate insistence but hardly any hope. Yet a curious little irresponsible laughter appeared in his heart.
“We have all suffered so much,” he mocked, ironically.
She looked up at him, and a flash of wild gaiety went over her face, a strange flash of yellow light coming from her eyes.
“Haven’t we!” she cried, in a high, reckless cry. “It is almost absurd, isn’t it?”
“Quite absurd,” he said. “Suffering bores me, any more.”
“So it does me.”
He was almost afraid of the mocking recklessness of