drawing near to him. But she spoke out of fear, not out of love.

“I care all the world — I care for nothing else — neither in life nor in death,” he said, in the same steady, colourless voice of essential truth.

“Than for what?” she murmured duskily.

“Than for you — to be with me.”

And again she was afraid. Was she to be conquered by this? She cowered close to him, very close to him. They sat perfectly still, listening to the great, heavy, beating sound of the town, the murmur of lovers going by, the footsteps of soldiers.

She shivered against him.

“You are cold?” he said.