“And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. I’ve told them all that was necessary, but I— wanted to ask your pardon—for having made myself a nuisance to you, and for breaking into your rooms—and to thank you—the doctor says you bound up my wound—or I should have bled to death. ’ ‘Comment? How will it serve you to kill me?’ ‘I do not need to kill you. His face was a little flushed perhaps, and his small, brown eyes were bright.
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