Quicksand
her. She felt again that urge for service, not now for her people, but for this man who was talking so earnestly of his work, his plans, his hopes. An insistent need to be a part of them sprang in her. With compunction tweaking at her heart for even having entertained the notion of deserting him, she resolved not only to remain until June, but to return next year. She was shamed, yet stirred. It was not sacrifice she felt now, but actual desire to stay, and to come back next year.
He came, at last, to the end of the long speech, only part of which she had heard. “You see, you understand?” he urged.
“Yes, oh yes, I do.”
“What we need is more people like you, people with a sense of values, and proportion, an appreciation of the rarer things of life. You have something to give which we badly need here in Naxos. You mustn‘t desert us, Miss Crane.”
She nodded, silent. He had won her. She
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