"Dear," whispered Lewisham. "Dear."
"And to have her—"
"Dear," he vowed, "I have been a brute. I will end all that. I will end all that."
He took her suddenly into his arms and kissed her.
"Oh, I know I'm stupid," she said.
"You're not. It's I have been stupid. I have been unkind, unreasonable. All to-day— . . . I've been thinking about it. Dear! I don't care for anything—. It's you. If I have you nothing else matters. . . . Only I get hurried and cross. It's the work and being poor. Dear one, we must hold to each other. All to-day.—It's been dreadful. . ."
He stopped. They sat clinging to one another.
"I do love you," she said presently with her arms about him. "Oh! I do—do—love you."
He drew her closer to him.
He kissed her neck. She pressed him to her.
Their lips met.
The expiring candle streamed up into a tall flame, flickered, and was suddenly extinguished. The air was heavy with the scent of roses.
