With a cry of triumph, he rose, the sword hilt grasped in his fingers, the point swishing up towards her. “But it is so difficult——” “Not at all,” he answered eagerly. She moved her hand off of his knee, deliberately slow. Her fingers opened and the weapon fell from her nerveless grasp. Her features were still slightly marked by the disorder alluded to in the description of her as a child,—but that was the only drawback to her beauty. “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me.
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