"I couldn’t sleep till I’d seen you again!"
"Well!" she said, with the same forced little laugh. "Here I am!"
He seemed in the dark to tower above her; his bigness, the resonance of his deep voice, confused her.
"I couldn’t sleep without seeing you," he said again. "I had to know that you were real. After you had gone, I thought I must have dreamed you. You were so lovely, so wonderful, you came upon me so suddenly! You are real, aren’t you?"
Again she gave a stupid laugh.
"Tell me!" he said. "Are you the girl that I saw at the dinner-table—the houri in yellow that I saw in my mother’s room?"
"Yes."
"And only to think!" he said. "I’ve been looking for you all my life long, all over the world, and I find you here, under my own roof, when I come home! Were you waiting for me?"
"I didn’t know there was any you," she said, simply.
"I knew there was you, though! I knew I should find you!" he cried. "Oh, I’ve hungered for you and thirsted for you! I’ve been so restless and unsatisfied! I couldn’t believe my eyes. I’ve found you, dear, beloved girl!"