"Yes, it's true. I know it now. You've never looked at me like that—never before." He bent her head forward and would have kissed her—as he sometimes used to do—on the forehead—but she would not let him.
"No, not that kiss—the cold kiss of homage, Jeff. I don't want to be venerated. You're not to kiss me like that again—ever. My lips—they're yours, Jeff—my lips ... No one else—no, never ... they're yours."
So he took them, and in their sweetness for a while found forgetfulness of his bitterness. At last she led him to a big chair by the window, made him sit, and sank on the floor at his feet.
"You're not going back to Kansas?" he asked anxiously.
She smiled. "Not unless you want me to."
He drew her into his arms again. "I'll never want you to. I want you here—close—close—my girl."
"You must never leave me again, Jeff—I've suffered so."
"I couldn't stand seeing you. I thought you loved——" She put her fingers over his lips and would not let him finish.
"No—not now——don't speak of that, it's all a nightmare. But you must never leave me again. I want to be with you always. I want to take my half of your troubles."
His head bowed, the grasp of his hands relaxed, and his eyes stared into vacancy.