He waited for her answer, facing her.
'Oh, yes!' she breathed. 'Oh, yes!... I'm glad—I'm so glad.'
'I wish,' he broke out, 'I wish I could explain to you what I think of you, what I feel about you. You're so quiet and simple and direct and yet—you don't know it, but you are. You're absolutely the most—Oh! it's no use.'
She saw that he was growing very excited, and this, too, gave her deep pleasure.
'We're in a hell of a fix!' he sighed.
Like many women, she took a fearful, almost thrilling joy in hearing a man swear earnestly and religiously.
'That's it,' she said, 'there's nothing to be done?'
'Nothing to be done?' he demanded, imperiously. 'Nothing to be done?'
She examined his face, which was close to hers, with a meditative, expectant smile. She loved to see him out of repose, eager, masterful, and daring. 'What is there to be done?' she asked.
'I don't know yet,' he said firmly, 'I must think.' Then, in a delicious surrender, she felt towards him as though they were on the brink of a rushing river, and he was about to pick her up in his arms, like a trifle, and carry her safely through the flood; and she had the illusion of pressing her face, which she knew he adored, against his shoulder.