That was the greatest of her
powers--to tame the beast in him, to lift him from the depths to the
heights, to make him feel as though he was her father instead of her
lover, because she herself was pure and good as a child.
"There--there, don't cry, my pretty Mav."
And she, melting beneath the gentleness and tenderness of his
caresses, wept in pity of herself. "Yes, I'm tired--dead-tired." And
the tears flowed unchecked, blotting out emotion, reason, instinct,
swamping her in floods of self-pity. "Let me sleep--and let me forget.
Oh, let me forget what I've gone through these last two days."
"Anyways, it's over now."
"Yes, it's over. Oh, thank God in Heaven, it's over and done with."
"Just so." And there was a change in the tone of his voice that she
might have noticed, but did not. "Just so--but you're talking rather
strange, come to think of it."
His arms slowly relaxed, and he let her slide out of his embrace. She
sank down wearily upon the pillow, closed her eyes, and for a little
while went on talking drowsily and inconsecutively.
"Shut up," he said suddenly. "Hold your tongue. I'm thinking."
Then almost immediately he turned, and, with his hands upon her
shoulders, looked down into her face.
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