"Jeff—Jeff! will you—will you try to forgive me?"
There followed silence, but very strangely no misgiving assailed her. She strove with gentle insistence to draw the shielding hands away.
At first he resisted her, and then very suddenly he yielded. His hands went out to her, his head dropped forward upon her shoulder. A strangled sob shook him.
And Doris knelt up with all her woman's compassion leaping to his need, and clasped her warm arms about him, holding him to her heart.
That broke him, broke him utterly, so that for a while no words could pass between them. For Doris was crying too, even while she sought to comfort.
But at last, with a valiant effort, she checked her tears. "Jeff—darling, don't let us be so—so silly," she murmured, with one quivering hand laid upon his head. "We've got all we want—both of us. Let's forget it all! Let's begin again!"
He put his arms around her, not lifting his head.
"Can't we?" she said softly. "I'm ready."