of himself by the beauty of the white face with the luminous eyes. "To-morrow, at three!"
She did not look at him. She didn't even bother to attempt to look through him.
"You are not coming back," she quietly explained.
Already, she knew, all the doors of all the world were closed between them. The thing seemed so final, so irrefutably over and done with, that there was even a spurning touch of weariness in her tone. But he refused to be spurned.
"I am coming back," he maintained, facing the eyes which refused to meet his, speaking more violently than he had at first intended to speak. "I am coming back again, as sure as that sun is shining on those housetops out there. I'm coming back, and I'm going to take you in my arms again. For I'm going to tame you, you crazy-hearted little stormy petrel, even though I have to break down that door of yours, and break down that pride of yours, to do it!"
She went whiter than ever as she stood
