But he seemed to feel that, nevertheless, she must need reassuring. “We’ll get off all right somehow.”
“To-morrow?” she asked, quite without eagerness.
“I don’t know about to-morrow.” He looked past his companion at harassed, disappointed faces. “It’s a plain case for a little patience.”
“Do I strike you as impatient?”
“You strike me as—” He seemed to pull himself up, and yet he allowed himself to say it slowly: “You were splendid to-night.”
She glowed inwardly. “Louis!”
“Yes.” They were leaning far over the railing again, shoulder to shoulder.
“Louis.”
“Well. You got that far before. What comes next?”
“I let you say all that about my not needing you. But if you knew how I’ve been blessing you for—for your forbearance with my stubbornness about coming—for your forgiveness—”