He stopped. His hand was all wet with her tears. "Oh, darling!" she whispered. "Oh, darling!"
"Don't cry, sweetheart!" he said. "And don't be afraid any longer! I took you from your inferno. I learnt to love you—just as you were, dear, just as you were. You tried to keep me at a distance; do you remember? And then—you found life was too strong for you. You came back and gave yourself to me. Have you ever regretted it, my darling? Tell me that!"
"Never!" she sobbed. "Never! Your love—your love—has been—the safety-curtain—always—between me and—harm."
And then very suddenly she lifted her face, her streaming eyes, and met his look.
"But there's one thing, darling," she said, "which you must know. I loved you always—always—even before that monsoon night. But I came to you then because—because—I knew that I had been recognized, and—I was afraid—I was terrified—till—till I was safe in your arms."
"Ah! But you came to me," he said.
A sudden gleam of mirth shot through her woe. "My! That was a night, Billikins!" she said. And then the clouds came back upon her, overwhelming her. "Oh, what is there to laugh at? How could I laugh?"
He lifted the glass he held and drank from it, then offered it to her. "Drink with me!" he said.
She took, not the glass, but his wrist, and drank with her eyes upon his face.
When she had finished she drew his arms about her, and lay against his shoulder with closed eyes for a space, saying no word.