He drew her to him so gently that she was hardly aware of the action till her head came to rest on his shoulder. His free hand, strong and purposeful, took possession of one of hers and sturdily held it.
"It's all right," he murmured to her soothingly. "It's all right."
She wept for awhile without restraint, her nerves completely shattered, her pride laid low. And while she wept, Jake held her, strongly, sustainingly, his red-brown eyes staring unblinkingly full into the heart of the fire.
At the end of a long interval she grew a little calmer, made as if she would withdraw herself. But very quietly he frustrated her.
"No, not while you're feeling so badly. Say, now, let me take off your hat! Guess I can do it without you moving."
She was not in a condition to forbid him, and he removed it with considerable dexterity, while she still hid her quivering face against him with an instinctive confidence that paid a dumb tribute to the man's complete mastery of himself.
"I'm dreadfully sorry--to have behaved like this," she whispered at last.
"You needn't be sorry for that," said Jake. "No one will know except me. And I don't count."
"I think you do," she faltered, and made a more decided effort to free herself.
He let her go with a kindly pat on the shoulder. "Say, now, if that coffee ain't cold, p'raps you'll try a sip."