She shivered at the finality of his words, but they gave her light. "I have hurt you—horribly!" she said.
He was silent.
She pressed herself to him with a sudden passionate gesture. "Dick—my husband—will you forgive me—can you forgive me—before you understand?"
Her eyes implored him, yet just for a second he hesitated. Then very swiftly he gathered her closely, closely against his heart, and kissed her pleading, upturned face over and over. "Yes!" he said. "Yes!"
She clung to him with all her quivering strength. "I love you, darling! I love you,—only—only—you!" she whispered brokenly. "You believe that?"
"Yes," he said again between his kisses.
"And if I tried to do without you it was only because—only because—I loved you so," she faltered on. "Your anger is just—the end of the world for me, Dick. I can't face it. It tears my very self."
"My darling! My own love!" he said.
"And then—and then—I had such an awful doubt of you, Dicky. I thought your love was dead, and I thought—and I thought I couldn't hope to hold you—after that. I'd got to free you somehow. Oh, Dicky, what agony love can be!"
"Hush, darling, hush!" he said.