But it was enough. Geraldine saw it. She came and stood beside him, grave and lovely as ever, so untroubled, so quiet.
“Everything’s all right,” she said gently. “The doctor’s seen you. You’re very weak, but he says you’ll soon—”
She stopped, because it was so hard to see him there, white and still, with that mute appeal in his eyes.
“You’re getting on nicely!” she said, with a sudden brisk cheerfulness.
Then he managed to speak.
“No!” he said, in that old defiant way of his.
That was more than Geraldine could bear. She knelt down beside him and laid her hand over his. She did not know how to say the words he wanted to hear. She could only look and look at him, with tears in her eyes and a little anxious, trembling smile on her lips.
Again he tried to speak, but only one word came:
“Love!” he said faintly.[Pg 310]