He kissed their lids.
There came from time to time the involuntary quick little indrawings of breath,—the aftermath of her weeping.
He held her so for a time, while neither spoke. She had become too weak to struggle.
"My arms have starved for you so," he murmured. She gave no sign.
"Come over here." He led her, unresisting, around to the couch at the other side of the table.
"Sit here, and we'll talk it over sensibly, before you get ready."
When he released her, she started quickly up toward the door that led into the hall.
"Don't do that—please don't be foolish."
He locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. Then he went over to the big folding-doors, and satisfied himself they were locked from the other side. He went back and stood in front of her. She had watched him with dumb terror in her face.
"Now we can talk—but there isn't much to be said. How soon can you be ready?"