Young, not much older than she was: she was twenty and he was possibly twenty-four. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over. “I saw him stagger and sink down, and the pistol was smoking still in my hand. I can’t explain—” They regarded one another, each blinded to the other. John turned toward the short staircase as she alit upon the first creaky step. "I don't deserve it," he said, at length; "but I would have risked a thousand deaths to enjoy this moment's happiness. " Ten minutes' walk brought them to the hotel.
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