“Yes,” said Rose, drawing a long breath.
Still kneeling beside her, still holding both her hands in his, Lucian looked her squarely in the eyes.
“Remember, you and I agreed long ago not to take any chances over this thing. It’s going to mean too much to both of us. You’re—you’re not acting on impulse, Rose?”
Into her face there flooded a colour that reminded him of the old days, when Mrs. Jim Aviolet had horrified Squires by her liberal use of rouge.
But as there had been no reality of artifice about her then, so there was no reservation now, in the candour of Rose’s surrender. Both had risen to their feet, and their eyes met on a level.
“Rose.”
He took her into his arms, and it was with all the ardour of her generous temperament that Rose Aviolet, giving herself at last, frankly raised her mouth to his.
“Will you marry me at once, Rose?” he asked her presently. “And we’ll start our work together.”
“Yes. Do you know, Ces wanted this to happen. He told me so, the night he went away.”
“I’m glad,” said Dr. Lucian gently.