"I'm sorry," I said meekly.
He gave a little low laugh under his quickened breath.
"You love me!" announced my husband arrogantly, beginning, as usual, at the wrong end.
"Why so I do!" I admitted in a small voice.
His arms went around me, gently, closely, and I shut my eyes under the touch of his lips on their lids. The dawn-birds were singing—in the room: in my heart.
"I love you," said Bill, and kissed my mouth.
I lay quite still then, between tears and laughter.
"It has taken you," I said, "a very long time to find it out!"
"It took me," he contradicted pleasantly, "about three minutes. From the very first—darling."
"Me, too!" said I, in utter astonishment. It was true. From the very first. I had fought a good fight, I thought, as I lay there in my utter content, against this heavenly surrender. I pity men who never know this wonderful release of self.