Raymond tried to think of something to say, but before the right thing occurred he heard Cameron's cheerful whistle cut off by the closing of the heavy front door.
Then he sat down by the fire and did some thinking. It was the kind of concentrated thought that separates the chaff and wheat; foregoes the glitter of romance and reaches out for the guiding, unfailing light of reality.
How long he sat alone Raymond never realized. It seemed like years, then like a moment—but it brought him to Nancy as she stood at the top of the flight of steps leading to the warm, fire-lighted room while the fountain splashed cheerfully and a restless, curious little bird twittered in its cage.
Nancy wore the faintest of blue gowns; a cloudlike scarf fell from her shoulders; her eyes held the full confession of her love as they met the groping in Raymond's.
He opened his arms.
"My darling!" he said, "will you come?"
Slowly, radiantly, Nancy stepped down.
"It seems as if I'd always been coming," she was saying. "I—I don't want to hurry now that I—I see you."
"I—I think I've always been coming, too," Raymond would not take a step, "but I was walking in the dark."
"And I——" but Nancy did not finish her sentence—she had found her heart's desire.