She could not herself have been more conscious of that feeling of relief than he was of its coming.

It spoke to him in the swift glance she gave toward those distant, fog-blurred lights, in the white, drained face of her, in the shrinking backward movement of her body when he spoke again; and something within him voiced "the exceeding bitter cry." "I am not sure that I even hoped you would take the revelation in any other way than this," he said.

"A hawk--even a tamed one--must be a thing of terror in the eyes of a dove.

Still, I am not sorry that I have made the confession, Miss Lorne.

When the worst has been told, a burden rolls away." "Yes," she acquiesced faintly, finding her voice; but finding it only to lose it again.