When she got as far as the open doorway she paused and turned to him.
"King—King—" she began, but her voice failed her.
King stepped close to her and took her arm.
"Tell me about it as we go," he said.
She moved towards him, and reaching up placed her hands on his shoulders. King looked down at her face, white and tense in the darkness.
"You must fight, King," she said, with an emphasis that to King seemed almost pathetic.
He pressed her closer for reply.
"And you must win," she added.
He smiled faintly. "I'm ready," he said.
Her hands crept slowly about his neck, and King, with a suddenness that swept her off her feet, caught her to him and pressed a kiss upon her mouth, a kiss in which all the pent-up passion of weeks found expression at last.