“Oh, but, Roland, what?”
“Well, I’m not quite certain what, but I think he’s going to let me have a shot at some sort of foreign representative affair.”
“But, how splendid!” She felt that she shared, in a measure, in his success. It was in her that he had confided his hopes; it was to her that he had brought the news of his good fortune. Her face was flushed and eager, its expression softened by her faith in him. And Roland who, up till then, had regarded her as little more than a friend, her charm as a delicate, elusive fragrance, was unprepared for this simple joy in his achievement. The surprise placed in his mouth ardent, unconsidered words.
“But I shouldn’t have been able to do anything without you,” he said.
“What do you mean?” she asked, feeling herself grow nervous, taut, expectant.
“You encouraged me when I was depressed,” he said. “You believed in me. You told me that things would come right. And because of your belief they have come right. If it hadn’t been for you I shouldn’t have worried; I should have resigned myself to the bank. As likely as not I shouldn’t have gone down to the Marstons’ at all. It’s all you.”
There was a pause. And when at last she spoke, the intonation of her voice was tender.
“Is that true, Roland, really true?”
And as she looked at him, with her clear brown eyes, he believed implicitly that it was true. He was not play-acting. His whole being was softened and made tender by her beauty, by the sight of her calm, oval face and quiet color, her hair swept in a wide curve across her forehead, gathered under the smooth skin of her neck. His manhood grew strong through her belief in him. She was the key that would open for him the gate of adventure. He leaned forward, took her hands in his, and the touch of her fingers brought to his lips an immediate avowal.
“It’s quite true, April, every word of it. I shouldn’t have done anything but for you.” Her brown eyes clouded with a mute gratitude. Gently he drew her by the hand towards him, and she made no effort to resist him. “April,” he murmured, “April.”