“Oh, love—love!” Now they were locked in a firm embrace, and their lips met again and again. In the reaction great tears welled from her eyes, but she was smiling through them. “Now I am answered,” she went on, “I thought I knew what happiness was, but, if possible, I never did until this moment.”
“Did you think I was going to give you up then?” he said, a trifle unsteadily.
“Don’t ask me what I thought I only know I seem to have lived a hundred years in the last minute or so.”
“And I?”
“You too. You have an expressive face, my ideal?”
“Listen, Lalanté. How long have we known each other?”
“Since I first came home. Just a year.”
“And how long have we loved each other?”
“Exactly the same time, to a minute.”
“Yes. And have we ever had the slightest misunderstanding or exchanged one single word that jarred or rankled?”