He stood up, but did not move towards her. Instead, he just stood looking, looking into her eyes. Hers fell, and again the quick colour came and went. “Hal is not here,” he said simply; “she went to Miss Vivian last week.” “Oh, I am glad. I was afraid she had not had time. I thought, when I saw the flowers…” An idea seemed to strike her suddenly. She looked at him, and her eyes were full of a question she could not ask. “I thought only Hal knew I should be returning today.” “I knew,” he said simply. “Did you… did you…” she was at a loss to finish. This hesitating nervousness was new to him. He had never seen her before other than calmly self-possessed. It called, with swift-calling, to his natural masculine strength and masculine protectiveness. It enabled him to grow sure of himself, and strong. “Yes, I sent the flowers,” he answered. “I wanted badly to come to the station to meet you, but I was afraid you might think it an impertinence.” He came a little nearer. “Sould you have thought so?” He seemed to be waiting for an answer, and she said shyly: “I should have thought it very kind of you.” “I am always wanting to do things for you,” he said, “and I am always afraid I shall only vex you. And I wouldn’t vex you for the world,” in a low, fervent voice. Again she gave him a swift, shy, questioning glance, and he grew bolder still. He came closer, and stood beside her. “Most of all, I want to tell you that I love you with all my heart and soul and strength, and, until this moment, I have been afraid that that would vex you too.” She raised her eyes then, swimming in sudden tears of gladness. “But it doesn’t?…” he said eagerly, “you… you… Oh, Ethel! is it possible you would like me to say it?” “It has been possible a long time, Dudley, but I did not think it would ever be said.” He took her hands in his and kissed first one and then the other. For the moment he was too overwhelmed at the suddenness of his joy to understand it. “I thought you despised me,” he breathed. “It did not seem possible you could do anything else; but Hal said I was wrong.” She smiled faintly. “Yes; Hal knew,” she told him. “I think she has known some time.” Then she seemed to sway a little. “You are tired out,” he exclaimed in quick commiseration. “What a brute I am, letting you stand all this time, after your long journey too! I have told myself over and over how I would take care of you if I might, and this is how I begin! Forgive me—.” He gently pushed her towards his own big chair, and when she had sunk down in it, fetched a cushion and a footstool. She leaned back wearily, looking up at him with eyes that were full of deep joy, if not yet emancipated from their long, long vigil of sorrow. “Is this all true, or am I dreaming? Yesterday—an hour ago—I thought it could never happen at all.” “I too.” He was kneeling on one knee beside her now, holding her hand against his face for the comfort of it.