"Don't--don't!" he implored hoarsely, a strange fire in his eyes, a hectic flush on either cheek.
"Don't! Or I'll forget what I am, and take advantage of this midsummer folly that is upon you." "Is it no more than folly, Justin ?" she asked him, brown eyes looking up into gray-green.
"Ay, something more--stark madness.

All great emotions are.

It will pass, and you will be thankful that I was man enough--strong enough--to allow it the chance of passing." She hung her head, shaking it sorrowfully.

Then very softly: "Is it no more than the matter of--of that, that stands between us ?" she inquired.
"No more than that," he answered, "and yet more than enough.

I have no name to offer any woman." "A name ?" she echoed scornfully.