He drew her fingers to his lips and kissed them passionately. She suffered it, closing her eyes against the pain.
"I've wanted you so all these months!" he cried. "I should n't have let you go in the first place. I should n't have let you go."
"No, Peter," she answered.
"And now that I've found you again, you'll stay?"
He was lifting his face to hers—straining to see her. To have answered any way but as he pleaded would have been to strike that upturned face.
"I—I 'll try to stay," she faltered.
"I 'll make you!" he breathed. "I 'll hold you tight, soul of mine. Would you—would you kiss my eyes?"
Holding her breath, Marjory lightly brushed each of his eyes with her lips.
"It's like balm," he whispered. "I've dreamed at night of this."
"Every day I'll do it," she said. "Only—for a little while—you 'll not ask for anything more, Peter?"