His gaze wandered to the candles, strayed back to the window, then met hers steadfastly, so steadfastly, that she could not resist.

She was annoyed.
"Tell me about her." "My vocabulary is too limited.

You would laugh at me." "I?
No; love is sacred." She had boasted to Maurice that she was without conscience; she had only smothered it.

"Come; is she beautiful ?" "Yes." These questions disturbed him.
"Certainly she must be worthy or you would not love her.

She is rich ?" "That does not matter; I am." He was wishing that Maurice would hurry back; the desire to fly was returning.
"And she rejected you and sent you to the army ?" "She has not rejected me, though I dare say she would, had I the presumption to ask her." "A faint heart, they say--" "My heart is not faint; it is my tongue." He rose and wandered about the room.