But still her soul was naked in her great dark eyes, and there was the same yearning appeal upon her.

If he could have kissed her in abstract purity he would have done so.

But he could not kiss her thus--and she seemed to leave no other way.

And she yearned to him.
He gave a brief laugh.
"Well," he said, "get that French and we'll do some--some Verlaine." "Yes," she said in a deep tone, almost of resignation.

And she rose and got the books.