n't know that there is anything
greater than that sort of sacrifice. And it's far beyond me," said Peter.

Julie leaned back and hummed a bar or two that Peter recognised from the
last great song of the dancer. "Well, my dear, I was sad, wasn't I?" she
said. "But it's over. There's no use in sadness, is there?"

Peter did not reply, and started as Julie suddenly laughed. "Oh, good
Lord, Peter!" she exclaimed, "to what _are_ you bringing me? Do you know
that I'm about to quote Scripture? And I damn-well shall if we sit on
here! Let's walk up Regent Street; I can't sit still. Come on." She
jumped up.

"Just now," he said, "you wanted to sit still for ages, and now you want
to walk. What is the matter with you, Julie? And what was the text?"

"That would be telling!" she laughed. "But can't I do anything I like,
Peter?" she demanded. "Can't I go and get drunk if I like, Peter, or sit
still, or dance down Regent Street, or send you off to bed and pick up a
nice boy? It would be easy enough here. Can't I, Peter?"

Her mood bewildered him, and, without in the least understanding why,
he resented her levity. But he tried to hide it. "Of course you can,"
he said lightly; "but you don't really want to do those things, do
you--especially the last, Julie?"

She stood there looking at him, and then, in a moment, the excitement
died out of her voice and eyes. She dropped into a chair again. "No,
Peter," she said, "I don't. That's the marvel of it. I expect I shall,
one of these days, do most of those things, and the last as well, but I
don't think I'll ever _want_ to do them again. And that's what you've
done to me, my dear."

Peter was very moved. He slipped his hand out and took hers under cover
of her dress. "My darling," he whispered, "I owe you everything. You
have given me all, and I won't hold back all from you. Do you remember,
Julie, that once I said I thought I loved you more than God? Well, I know
now--oh yes, I believe I do know now. But I choose you, Julie."

Her eyes shone up at him very brightly, and he could not read them
altogether. But her lips whispered, and he thought he understood.

"Oh, Peter, my dearest," she said, "thank God I have at least heard you
say that. I wouldn't have missed you saying those words for anything,
Peter."

So might the serving-girl in Pilate's courtyard have been glad, had she
been in love.

CHAPTER X

Part at least of Julie's programme was fulfilled to the letter,