"My poor, tired face," she faltered.
"Tired?" he repeated. "It's the most beautiful face on earth."
The smile which suddenly transformed her quivering mouth made it indeed seem so.
"You are so foolish, dear, but go on," she pleaded.
"I want to see you grow younger and lighter-hearted. I want you to realise day by day that something beautiful is stealing into your life. I want you to feel what real love is—tender, passionate, lover's love."
"My dear, my dear!" she cried. "I do not dare to think of these things, yet they sound so wonderful."
"Leave the daring to me, sweetheart," he answered. "You shall have nothing to do but rest after these horrible days, rest and care for me a little."
"Oh, I do care!" she exclaimed, with sudden passion. "That is what makes it all so wonderful."
"You love me? Tell me so once more?" he begged.
"Dear, I love you. You must have known it or you couldn't have said these things. And I thought I was going to die without knowing what love was."