"Didn't Miss M'Gann stay?" he asked remorsefully. "I sent her away with Dr. Leonard. And our old Ducharme has gone out to one of her doctor's services. She is getting queerer and queerer, but such a good soul! What should I have done without her! You sent her to me," she added tenderly. They sat down by the open window within sound of the gentle, healing rain. Sommers noticed that Alves had changed her dress from the black gown she had worn in the afternoon to a colored summer dress. The room had been rearranged, and all signs of the afternoon scene removed. It was as if she willed to obliterate the past at once. How fast she lived! Her manner was peaceful. She sat resting her head against a high-backed chair, and her arms, bare from the elbow, fell limply by her side. She seemed tired, merely, and content to rest in the sense of sweet relief. "Alves," he cried, taking one of her hands and pressing the soft flesh in his grip, "I could not stay away. I meant to--I did not mean to meet you again here--but it was too lonely, too desolate everywhere." "Why not here and at once?" she asked, with a shade of wonder in her voice. "Haven't we had all the sorrow here? And why should we put off our joy? It is so great to be happy to the full for once." The very words seemed to have a savor for her. "Are you happy?" he asked curiously. "Why not! It's as if all that I could ever dream while I walked the hot streets had come to me. It has come so fast that I cannot quite feel it all. Some joy is standing outside, waiting its turn." Smilingly she turned her face to his for response. "What shall you do?" he asked. "Do? I can't think _now_. There is so much time to think of that." "But you can't stay here!" he exclaimed, with undue agitation. "Not if you dislike it. But I feel differently. I found this refuge, and it served me well. I have no need to leave it." Sommers let her hand fall from his clasp, and rose to his feet. "You must! You cannot stay here after--" "As you wish. We will go away." "But until we are married?" "Married?" she repeated questioningly. "I hadn't thought of that." After a moment she said hesitatingly: "Do we have to be married? I mean have the ceremony, the oath, the rest of it? I have been married. Now I want--love." "Why, it is only natural--" the man protested. "No, no, it is not natural. It may kill all this precious love. You may come to hate me as I hated him, and then, then? No," she continued passionately. "Let us not make a ceremony of this. It would be like the other, and I should feel it so always. We will have love, just love, and live so that it makes no difference. You cannot understand!" Sommers knelt beside her chair. "Love, love," he repeated. "You shall have it, Alves, as you will--the delirium of love!" "That is right," she whispered, trembling at his touch. "Talk to me like that. Only more, more. Make my ears ring with it. Your words are so weak!" "There are no words."