He had no desire to hide its confession, and he was eager to find what lay in her own eyes.

And he was astonished, and then startled.

The kiss had not disturbed Marette.

It was as if it had never happened.
She was not embarrassed, and there was no hint of color in her face.

It was her deathly whiteness that startled him, a pallor emphasized by the dark masses of her hair, and a strange glow in her eyes.