Tom was amazingly inarticulate. He just turned and looked down at her, moving a few inches closer as he did so. She wore a black boa; the fur touched his cheek.
'You have come back,' he said.
There was a new wonder in her face, a soft new beauty. The woman in her glowed.… He saw the suffering plainly too.
'We have both found out,' she said very low, 'found out what we are to one another.'
Tom's supply of words failed completely then. He looked at her—looked all the language in the world. And she understood. She lowered her eyes. 'I feel shy,' he thought he heard. It was murmured only. The next minute she raised her eyes again to his. He saw them dark and beautiful, tender as his mother's, true and faithful, as in his boyhood's dream of years ago. But they were now a woman's eyes.
'I never really left you, Tom…' she said with absolute conviction. 'I never could. I went aside… to fetch something—to give to you. That was all!'