and having builded in my heart and mind a very lofty altar for the truth, how can I feel otherwise than sorry that you spoke — hotly, unthinkingly, as you did to me?”
I was silent.
She rose, lifted the lantern, laid open the trap-door.
“Come,” she whispered, beckoning.
I followed her as she descended, took the lantern from her hand, glanced at the shadowy heap, asleep perhaps, on the corner settle, then walked to the door and opened it. A thousand, thousand stars were sparkling overhead.
On the sill she whispered:
“When will you come again?”
“Do you want me?” I said sullenly.