Rather than run the risk of again showing you my abominable temper, I will go away." His voice trembled and his bright eyes seemed to grow dull and misty.
"Let this be our parting," he continued, as though mastering his emotion.

"I have no right to ask anything, and yet I ask this of you.
When I have left you, when you are safe for ever from my humours and my tempers and myself--then, do not think unkindly of Keyork Arabian.

He would have seemed the friend he is, but for his unruly tongue." Unorna hesitated a moment.

Then she put out her hand, convinced of his sincerity in spite of herself.
"Let bygones be bygones, Keyork," she said.

"You must not go, for I believe you." At the words, the light returned to his eyes, and a look of ineffable beatitude overspread the face which could be so immovably expressionless.
"You are as kind as you are good, Unorna, and as good as you are beautiful," he said, and with a gesture which would have been courtly in a man of nobler stature, but which was almost grotesque in such a dwarf, he raised her fingers to his lips.
This time, no peal of laugher followed to destroy the impression he had produced upon Unorna.