"You have all your old recklessness," she answered.

Then her eyes softened, and, "All your old courage," she added.
"I have all my old motive." "What is-your motive ?" Does a woman ever know how much such speeches cost?
Did Jessica quite know when she asked the question, what her own motive was; how much it had of delicate malice--unless there was behind it a simple sincerity?
She was inviting sorrow.

A man like Iberville was not to be counted lightly; for every word he sowed, he would reap a harvest of some kind.
He came close to her, and looked as though he would read her through and through.

"Can you ask that question ?" he said most seriously.

"If you ask it because from your soul you wish to know, good! But if you ask it as a woman who would read a man's heart, and then--" "Oh, hush!--hush!" she whispered.