"You might have known I couldn't forget," he said. "You told me not to write. I did write several times, but I didn't send the letters for fear they might get you into trouble at home. But all that doesn't count now. I've come back." There was a ring of triumph in his voice, a joyous inflection that seemed not only to invite, but to confidently expect, a sympathetic response. Prudence, who in the first flush of her gladness at being with him again, had forgotten everything else for the moment, gave herself up to the pleasure of this unexpected encounter: her marriage, everything outside the immediate present, every one save themselves, was blotted out like patterns on the sand which the incoming tide obliterates. She was as a person whose mind swings abruptly backward, with every event which has befallen in the interval wiped from her memory for the time. "You've come back!" she repeated, and smiled happily. "I'm so glad. Why did you go abroad?" "Because there didn't seem much chance of getting on here," he replied. "I couldn't afford to waste the years. You see, I wanted to make a home. Well, I've done that." "Oh! but that's splendid!" she cried, her eyes shining with excitement. "You've got on quickly." He laughed with her, and seated himself on the arm of her chair and laid a hand upon one of hers. "I've been lucky," he said. He lifted his hand to her neck and slipped his arm around her shoulders. It did not seem to occur to him that she might resent or feel surprised at this familiarity. They were in love with one another; he took that for granted; he was so certain about it that it did not appear necessary even to raise that point. "So now, you see," he added, "I can afford to marry." She looked at him with a quick darkening of her blue eyes, a sudden gravity chasing the smiling happiness from her face. She knew quite well whom he wished to marry. And she loved him. She had no doubt about that at all. She loved the feel of his nearness, the clasp of his arm about her: the touch of his lips had caused her a thrill of happiness, deeper and sweeter than any emotion she had felt or imagined. He wanted her; she wanted him; and she was not free to go to him. "Yes," she said, with, to him, unaccountable nervousness. "Yes. That's wonderful. It's great news. Tell me more--something about your life out there. Where was it you went? South Africa! Funny! I didn't even know where you were. You'll go back, I suppose, after the war?"