"She was not in his clutches," he said. "He might have missed her."
"Ah, no, no!" she broke out suddenly. "You run down what she did to spare me! That's worst of all."
"Why, Jan, I don't say a word against her; but there was a difference."
"She thought of no difference. She only thought of you. I thought of my own life."
"Thank God if you did, dearest!"
"I'm glad you came. I wanted to tell you I had tried."
"I need nothing to make me love you more, my beauty and delight," he said, pressing her to him.
She looked at him with a sort of amazement, making a faint effort to push him away.
"It was so lucky," he went on, "that I didn't see you, or I should have rushed at him, and he would most likely have killed you. As it was——" He paused, for it seemed impossible to speak of poor Nellie's hurt as a happy outcome.
"Come," he resumed, "let's think no more about it. The wretched man is dead and Nellie Fane is getting better, and we—why, we, Jan, have one another."