“Oh, I am glad, glad,” she said, “glad! Have you told—her?”
He shook his head.
“Will you wait here, John? I will send her to you.”
John Everard’s face coloured. “I will wait here for her, for Gipsy,” he said. “Send her here to me, and I will tell her, Con.”
And a few moments later she came. She stood here in the doorway looking at him, just as she had looked at him from that same place that night, that night when a light had dawned upon his darkness.
And now, because his eyes were widely opened at last, he could see the tell-tale flush in her cheeks, the suspicious brightness in her eyes, and it seemed to him that her love for him was as a magnet that drew his heart towards her.
“Con has told you?”
She nodded silently.
Then suddenly he stretched out his arms to her, a moment more and she was in them, her face against his breast.