The woman came to him. "I had better take her now, m'sieu," she said. "Malcolm--will tell you. And a little later,--you may see her again."
Her voice was low and soft. At the sound of it Marette raised her head, and her two hands stole to Kent's cheeks in their old sweet way, and she whispered, "Kiss me, Jeems--my Jeems--kiss me--"