her to reason
with him.

"Morris...." she began.

He broke into that low, exultant laughter which so confused her.

"Oh, little girl!" he cried again. "She is so young this morning that
she lisps.... She calls me 'Morrith.'" And indeed Sophy had lisped over
his name as she sometimes lisped in moments of excitement. She was
overwhelmed to feel another blush suffuse her. She bit her lip--tried to
frown, looking away from him into the fire. He continued laughing. His
laughter stirred the hair on her bent neck. Unwillingly she, too, began
to laugh. But this laughter was very near to tears. That subtle essence
of herself which she had imparted to him made him suddenly grave.

"What is it, my Wonder?" he asked softly. "I am listening...."

"Then ... dear...." she said very low, "this ... that has happened is
... beautiful ... but ... but it is only a dream.... We ... we must wake
now...."

"Bend down and see...." he whispered. "I am not dream-stuff, Beautiful.
Bend down to me again ... as last evening...."

"No, my dear ... no and no...."

"Then I must reach to you...."

She felt the flutter of his lips at her mouth's edge. She drew aside,
holding him from her. The words came quick and short.

"It is absurd. I am too old ... you are too young.... Heaven and earth
would laugh at us.... I am a woman who has lived through horrors ...
yes, horrors.... You are just at the beginning...."

"Yes ... just at the beginning--with you, my Wonderful!"

"My dear, dear boy...."

"'Boy' for your whim.... 'Man' to love you...."

"Oh, be reasonable!..."

"I wouldn't be reasonable for the throne of Caesar----"

"You _must_ be serious.... You _must_ let me talk seriously with you.
I.... I shall be offended if you do not. I shall think your love is only
froth."

This brought him upright, a queer gleam in his eyes.

"Well, then...." he said. It was his Marmion tone. It implied, "Come
one, come all; this rock shall fly from its firm base as soon as I."

"Go on, please...." he added, as she did not at once speak.

"Then," said Sophy, looking away from him, "you must think of last night
as ... as a 'Twelfth Night's' madness. Very sweet.... Yes, beautiful in
its way ... but just a moment's dream.... When you ... really love some
one ... you will know that it was only a dream...."

"'When I really love some one'?"

"Yes."

"You think that?"

"Yes."

"Would you mind looking at me?"

"No...."

But her eyes wavered, a