” She rolled over on her face, and stuffed her fingers in her ears to shut out the rhythm from her mind. “But you yourself,” she exclaimed, glancing into his face, “you too look tired. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. ’ ‘Militia, miss,’ Kimble corrected her. She remained by the door until the walls of the city swallowed the bobbing lantern.
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