“I don’t know... You are so quiet,” she answered. “And at dinner I fancied you seemed a little put out.”
She crossed to his chair and knelt beside him, resting her clasped hands on his shoulders, her face lifted to his. He put out a hand and touched her hair.—“Pamela,” he said abruptly, “you’ve been happy with me? You’ve—I’ve made you happy?” he insisted.
She looked surprised: a faint questioning showed in the blue eyes and the slight puckering of the finely pencilled brows.
“My dear!” she said. “You know that.” She pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. “You never doubted me?” she asked.
“No,” he answered,—“no.”
Suddenly he caught her to him and held her strained against his breast.
“Oh! but it’s good to have you,” he cried. “You are the best thing that life has given me. I’d fight till my last breath to keep you.”
“Well, but there isn’t any fear of your losing me,” she said, and drew back to regard him, perplexed at this unusual demonstration from a man who, save in moments of passionate excess, was habitually rather reserved. “Silly person! Did you think I was going to run away?”
“You couldn’t,” he answered confidently. “You are chained here to my side with invisible, unbreakable bonds.”
“Oh; there’s the divorce court,” she remarked with light-hearted flippancy.