For a moment she wished that he had been as Keyork Arabian, stronger than she; then, with the half-conscious comparison the passion for the man himself surged up and drowned every other thought.

She almost forgot that for the time he was not to be counted among the living.

She went to him, and clasped her hands upon his shoulder, and looked up into his scarce-seeing eyes.
"You must love me," she said, "you must love me because I love you so.
Will you not love me, dear?
I have waited so long for you!" The soft words vibrated in his sleeping ear but drew forth neither acknowledgment nor response.

Like a marble statue he stood still, and she leaned upon his shoulder.
"Do you not hear me ?" she cried in a more passionate tone.

"Do you not understand me?
Why is it that your love is so hard to win?
Look at me! Might not any man be proud to love me?
Am I not beautiful enough for you?
And yet I know that I am fair.