He stood mute before her.
She held out her hand and said simply
"Thank you for coming."
"It was good of you to let me," he answered hoarsely. "They have not broken your spirit or your courage?"
"No," he replied tensely; "they are the stronger."
"I thought they would be," she said proudly.
All the while he was looking at the pale face and the thin transparency of her hands.
"But you have suffered, too. You have been ill. Were you in—danger?" His voice had a catch of fear in it as he asked the, to him, terrible question.
"No. It was just a fever. It is past. I am a little weak—a little tired. That will pass, too."
"If anything had happened to you—or ever should happen!" He buried his face in his hands and moaned "Oh, my God! Oh, my God!"