"It really is," he smiled.
"Yes," she went on, "I've hoped and longed and prayed that you would come for me, but I didn't think you would. I imagined that your pride wouldn't let you."
"My pride?" he echoed, perplexed.
"Yes. You said you wouldn't come unless I sent for you."
Stafford started and stared fixedly at her.
"Virginia!" he exclaimed.
He was about to demand explanations when she interrupted him.
"I'm not reproaching you, dear. I mention it because it makes your coming all the bigger and finer!" Rising she added; "I'm the happiest girl in all the world. You came for me. Nothing else matters—"
Stafford listened to her in amazement. It was very clear. She had not sent for him after all. There had been some misunderstanding. Yet what of it? He had found her, he had clasped her once more to his breast. That was all he cared about. Not for anything in the world would he lose her again. He said nothing, gazing fondly into her dear tired face as she went on:
"If you hadn't come, I should probably have had to come to you! And that would have robbed me of everything I've been fighting for. But now I shall know that I didn't have to do what I knew to be wrong, and it makes me so happy, dear! So happy! So very, very happy!"