Can you take me there ?" "There are other heights, Sylvia." "Higher ?" "Yes, dear." "The spiritual; I know.

I could not breathe there, if I cared to climb.
...

And I have told you what I am--all silk and lace and smooth-skinned selfishness." She looked at him wistfully.

"If you can change me, take me." And she rose, facing him.
"I do not give you up," he said, with a savage note hardening his voice; and it thrilled her to hear it, and every drop of blood in her body leaped as she yielded to his arms again, heavy-lidded, trembling, confused, under the piercing sweetness of contact.
The perfume of her mouth, her hair, the consenting fingers locked in his, palm against palm, the lips, acquiescent, then afire at last, responsive to his own; and her eyes opening from the dream under the white lids--these were what he had of her till every vein in him pulsed flame.

Then her voice, broken, breathless: "Good night.