But he did not kiss her a second time. He only held her against his heart. "Ah, Juliet—Juliet!" he said, and she felt the deep quiver of his words. "I've got you—now! You are mine."
She was panting, wordless, thankful to avail herself of the shelter he offered. She leaned against him for many seconds in palpitating silence.
For so long indeed was she silent that in the end misgiving pierced him and he felt for the downcast face. But in a moment she reached up and took his hand in hers, restraining him.
"Not again!" she whispered. "Please not again!"
"All right. I won't," he said. "Not yet anyhow. But speak to me! Tell me it's all right! You're not frightened?"
"I am—a little," she confessed.
"Not at me! Juliet!"
"No, not at you. At least," she laughed unsteadily. "I'm not quite sure. You—you—I think you must let me go for a minute—to get back my balance."
"Must I?" he said.
She lifted the hand she had taken and laid it against her cheek. "I've got—a good deal to say to you, Dick," she said. "You've taken me so completely by storm. Please be generous now! Please let me have—the honours of war!"