"And you shall not!" She leaned closer, looking him through and through. "I _will_ be what you love! I will be what you desire most in all the world. I _will_ be to you everything you wish, in every way, always, ever, and forever and ever.... Will you marry me?" "Will _you_?" "Yes." She suddenly stripped off her glove, wrenched a ring set with brilliants from the third finger of her left hand, and, rising, threw it, straight as a young boy throws, far out into deepening twilight. It was the end of Mr. Frawley; he, too, had not only become a by-product but a good-by product. Yet his modest demands had merely required a tear a year! Perhaps he had not asked enough. Love pardons the selfish. She was laughing, a trifle excited, as she turned to face him where he had risen. But, at the touch of his hand on hers, the laughter died at a breath, and she stood, her limp hand clasped in his, silent, expressionless, save for the tremor of her mouth. "I--I must go," she said, shrinking from him. He did not understand, thrilled as he was by the contact, but he let her soft hand fall away from his. Then with a half sob she caught her own fingers to her lips and kissed them where the pressure of his hand burned her white flesh--kissed them, looking at him. "You--you find a child--you leave a woman," she said unsteadily. "Do you understand how I love you--for that?" He caught her in his arms. "No--not yet--not my mouth!" she pleaded, holding him back; "I love you too much--already _too_ much. Wait! Oh, _will_ you wait?... And let me wait--_make_ me wait?... I--I begin to understand some things I did not know an hour ago." In the dusk he could scarcely see her as she swayed, yielding, her arms tightening about his neck in the first kiss she had ever given or forgiven in all her life. And through the swimming tumult of their senses the thrush's song rang like a cry. The moon had risen. [Illustration] XVII [Illustration] Mounting the deadened stairway noiselessly to her sister's room, groping for the door in the dark of the landing, she called: "Iole!" And again: "Iole! Come to me! It is I!" The door swung noiselessly; a dim form stole forward, wide-eyed and white in the electric light. Then down at her sister's feet dropped Aphrodite, and laid a burning face against her silken knees. And, "Oh, Iole, Iole," she whispered, "Iole, Iole, Iole! There is danger, as you say--there is, and I understand it ... now.... But I love him so--I--I have been so happy--so happy! Tell me what I have done ... and how wrong it is! Oh, Iole, Iole! What have I done!" "Done, child! What in the name of all the gods have you done?" "Loved him--in the names of all the gods! Oh, Iole! Iole! Iole!" "----The thrush singing in darkness; the voice of spring calling, calling me to his arms! Oh, Iole, Iole!--these, and my soul and his, alone under the pagan moon! alone, save for the old gods whispering in the dusk----"