The change in his life became very dear to him, as all these
things passed quickly through his mind; and with the consciousness
of vivid contrast came the certainty that he loved Flavia far
better than he had believed possible.
"And what shall I call you?" he asked, rather bluntly. He did not
quite know whether it would be wise to use any term of endearment
or not. Indeed, this was the weak point in his experience, but he
supplemented the deficiency by a rough tenderness which was far
from disagreeable to Flavia.
"Anything you like, dear," she answered. San Giacinto felt the
blood rush to his head with pleasure as he heard the epithet.
"Anything?" he asked, with a very unwonted tremour in his voice.
"Anything--provided you will love me," she replied. He thought he
had never seen such wicked, fascinating eyes. He drew her face to
his and looked into them a moment, his own blazing suddenly with a
passion wholly new to him.
"I will not call you anything--instead of calling you, I will kiss
you--so--is it not better than any name?"
A deep blush spread over Flavia's face and then subsided suddenly,
leaving her very pale. For a long time neither spoke again.
"Did your father tell you the news before we left?" asked San
Giacinto at last, when they were rolling over the Campagna along
the Via Latina.
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