Her eyes showed tremulously soft and deep now as he looked into them.

Her little hands half twitched a trifle from her lap and reached forward and upward.

Primitive she might have been, wicked she was, sinfully sweet; and yet she was woman.
It was with the voice of tears that she spoke, if one might claim vocalization for her speech.
"Have I not come ?" whispered she.
"By God! Mary Connynge, yes, you have come!" cried Law.

And though there was heartbreak in his voice, it sounded sweet to the ear of her who heard it, and who now reached up her arms about his neck.
"Ah, John Law," said Mary Connynge, "when a woman loves--when a woman loves, she stops at nothing!".