Against the darker background of green shrubs she resembled a picture
entitled "Dreaming," which he dimly recalled lingering before in some
famous Eastern gallery, and his heart beat faster in wonderment at what
the mystic dream might be. To draw back unobserved was impossible,
even had he possessed strength of will sufficient to make the attempt,
nor would words of easy greeting come to his relief. He could merely
worship silently as before a sacred shrine. It was thus she glanced up
and saw him with startled eyes, her hands unclasping, her cheeks
rose-colored.
"Lieutenant Brant, you here?" she exclaimed, speaking as if his
presence seemed unreal. "What strange miracles an idle thought can
work!"
"Thoughts, I have heard," he replied, coming toward her with head
uncovered, "will sometimes awaken answers through vast distances of
time and space. As my thought was with you I may be altogether to
blame for thus arousing your own. From the expression of your face I
supposed you dreaming."
She smiled, her eyes uplifted for a single instant to his own. "It was
rather thought just merging into dream, and there are few things in
life more sweet.
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