"You run in to Mother Purdy, Teddykins," said Dan, but Nance caught the child's hand.
"Better keep him here," she said with an unsteady laugh. "I got to get something off my chest once and for all; then I'll skidoo."
But Ted had already spied a squirrel and gone in pursuit, and Nance's eyes followed him absently.
"When I met you in the office the other day," she said, "I thought I could bluff it through. But when I saw you all knocked up like that; and knew that you cared—" Her eyes came back to his. "Dan we might as well face the truth."
"You mean—"
"I mean I'm going to wait for you if I have to wait forever. You're not free now, but when you are, I'll come to you."
He made one stride toward her and swept her into his arms.
"Do you mean it, girl?" he asked, his voice breaking with the unexpected joy. "You are going to stand by me? You are going to wait?"
"Let me go, Dan!" she implored. "Where's Ted? I mustn't stay—I—"
But Dan held her as if he never meant to let her go, and suddenly she ceased to struggle or to consider right or wrong or consequences. She lifted her head and her lips met his in complete surrender. For the first time in her short and stormy career she had found exactly what she wanted.