The Washington times., 1922-11-12

brokenly, uncertainty -
"you must-know" And
then, on a little sob that was half
a laugh-"Ive known tin my
heart of hearts-ever since | first
saw you-ages ago-that ! love
you-dntil the end of time"
The little, stammering, broken
speech had shocked Dan Revell
into a momentary stunned silence.
But the sight of the face that the
moonlight revealed held him dumb.
It was a face transfigured,
made wonderful. In those few
pulsing, breathless seconds Sally
Hicks attained a beauty which, in
less magical moments, one would
never have suspected her OF pos
sessing. The radiance of the
moonlight itself was all about her,
its magic in her eyes-eyes misted
with a sweetness which Dan had
never dreamed they could hold.
They looked back at him
straightly, wide and clear as a
child's, yet with a light in their
depths before which he caught a
smothered breath and grew sud
denly rigid. There was no mistak-
ing that light. 1t revealed to him
her innermost heart more surely
than even Sally herself knew. 1t
was light which he had seen in
another woman's eyes once, long
ago.
Then it had thrilled him-had
sent the hot blood coursing wildly
through his veins. Then the over
whelming passion surging in his
soul had answered it. Now
Now he would have given worlds
to escape it. 1t seemed to scar
him through and through. 1t
abased him; it made him feel at
once humble and immeasurably
guilty. 1t awed him, brought a
strange construction to his throat.
No man can see Just that light
in a wOman's eyes and remain un-
moved. Involuntarily Dan lifted
his hands and laid them upon either
slender wrist, and a sharp tremor
shook him. He was breathing
quickly, like a man who has been
running, his face was duly
flushed.
He felt her pulses leap und his
touch, saw the flame that swept
her face, and groaned inwardly.
He was bereft of the power of
speech. His mind was whirling
dizzily in the effort to comprehend
how this mOnstrous mistake had
occurred.
A devil of desire had kept him
doggedly waiting beneath Fancy's
window tonight. Desire to faake
her remember that these thir IS
were not dead. 1t was desire
which had blinded him too to the
fact that the figure which had
come to the window was not
Fancy's.
In his eagerness he had been so
sure that it was she. The dark
ness, and the swiftness with which
she had come to him, and the
heavy silken wrap hich clung
about her, with it's subtle, elusive
scent of lilies of the valley had
fostered the illusion.
For that first mad, half exultant,
wholly fierce moment that he had
held her in his arms he had be-
lieved her to be Fancy. He had
only known the warmth of yield
ing slender body, the quic.:, scared
beating of her heart against his,
the trembling of her mouth be-
meath his kisses.
He had sensed, exultantly, the
answering passion which had set
her trembling, that had robbed her
of the power or the desire to break
away from the prison of his arms;
he had been drunk with triumph
tingling with the consciousness
that, in this moment he had at
last broken down those barriers
which she had erected between
them, had surprised her into voice
less confusion Of love as fiercely
dominating as his own.
Now, with the breathless, stam-
mering rush of her words, the